Part IV: Fall of the West
by Rougeification
Summary: Fourth in the series. SYOC. 1905. As the Rune Brody gang rise to notoriety, they struggle with the fact that the time of outlaws is nigh on done. Moonshiners, Pinkertons, Alligators and the encroaching threat of civilisation.
1. The Law of Nature

**Hey y'all, and welcome back! I've had some time off to start another SYOC but man it's so good to be back with this – I've missed it so much and it's surprising how easy it is to slide back into the saddle.**

**Now, you all know me – I don't have many rules for my readers – reviews and whatever don't affect whether I use your character. BUT, that being said, I'm going to introduce one rule…**

**Please don't give away details about your characters in reviews. I understand if you want to defend your character's actions or explain why a character may or may not do something, but I'm asking you to trust me as the writer to reveal all of this in time. If it's not clear why a character has done something, trust that it will be in time. This is purely because if I've planned out my story to reveal something at the end, and a creator does it at the start… well, I might as well throw out the storyline and start again.**

**Anyway, I know you didn't come here to listen to me bang on about rules – you want to see our lovable rulebreakers. Enjoy this tasty chapter.**

_Roanoke Ridge, New Hanover_

_7__th__ September, 1907_

Sam fell onto the thick planks wooden floor with a thud, rubbing the side of his head as he groaned. The train rumbled through the forest, whistling as Sam touched his temples and found blood on his fingertips.

"You alright, Sam?" Luca shouted from his horse, Caesar, as he galloped alongside.

"I'm fine!" Sam shouted back.

"Aiden! You look after him, you hear?"

Sam looked over to see the stocky Aiden gripping a double-barrelled rifle in his left hand as he grabbed Sam by the shirt, hoisting him to his feet. "Alright, Sam, you just put your feet up, let the rest of us do all the work…"

Aiden pulled Sam along the bed, quickly throwing Sam behind a crate as a guard appeared in one of the carriages, firing his rifle at them. "You see him?" Aiden asked as he flinched at the metal clanging with a bullet.

"Is it just one?"

"Chrissake…" Aiden muttered from behind his red-and-gold bandana as he loaded a couple of shells into his shotgun. "You really are something, ain't ya?"

"Where's Jay?" Sam muttered.

"Probably doing more than you…" Aiden cocked back the hammer and fired his shotgun, blowing the man's leg off. The guard collapsed, grabbing his knee and trying to clutch onto Aiden's leg as he stepped over him. Another guard appeared at the end of the carriage, fumbling as he tried to load rounds into his repeater. Aiden fired his second shell and the man's throat exploded for a brief second before the corpse fell off the train.

Up ahead, a sun-kissed man was being throttled by a guard, pushed onto the railing and nearly forced off the side of the train. Sam watched as Aiden drew his revolver and fired a bullet into the guard's head. The corpse slumped beside the darker man, who had a fresh scar carved along his left cheek. He swept his brown hair back form his face and gave a lop-sided grin to Aiden.

"Taking your time, _hermano_."

"Shut the hell up," Aiden growled as he pushed his way past the man.

Sam went to follow, but Jay put a hand on his chest and walked in front. "Should be a couple more up ahead," he told Aiden, "I counted five."

"You can count?"

"You're a funny man. Like a clown."

"A clown that just saved your life…" Aiden reloaded his shotgun. His hazel eyes found the man as they paused outside the door to the carriage. "Jay, where's your mask?"

"I forgot it."

Aiden turned around, eyebrow raised. "You _forgot_ it?"

"I left it at camp." Jay shrugged.

"Well, what's it doing there?"

"About as much as little _ñino_ here." Jay jerked his head to Sam.

"At least he don't talk a big game…" Aiden muttered as he walked back to the one-legged corpse and stripped the blood-stained neckerchief from his neck. Aiden tossed it to Jay and pulled the shotgun over his shoulder.

"_Hermano_, I can't wear this, it's got bits of bone and-"

"Shut your goddamn mouth," Aiden said loudly – not out of anger or frustration, but out of pure exasperation.

Aiden kicked open the door and fired his revolver up into the air. Inside the carriage, two dozen passengers began to panic; husbands clutched wives, brothers clutched sisters… the screams still didn't sit well with Sam.

"Gold!" Aiden barked, "Money! Valuables! We ain't here for blood, but we'll spill it if we gotta…" Aiden handed a sack to Sam.

A woman whimpered at the bench at the front, and her husband stood up, speaking in a thick New York accent. "Now, listen here, I don't know where you're from, but thuggery and intimidation is not-"

Aiden slammed the butt of his revolver into the man's nose, watching him fall back into his seat with a groan. "Money!" Aiden barked. "Gold! Else I'll kill every last one of you…"

Sam licked his lips and moved forwards with the sack, taking the watches and earrings, rings and necklaces – everything that was worth anything. After five years of running with the gang, it still felt strange for him. He didn't have the same joy for the job as Jay, nor did he have the same anger inside that Aiden did, but he did have something else – he wanted to repay his debt to Rune. Taking him in when no-one else did… who else had that same drive in the gang?

Sam felt the train shudder and come to a halt. At the end of the carriage, the door crashed open and two guards entered, brandishing their rifles. Jay reacted first, tugging on the pearl grip of one of his blue Schofield revolvers and fanning the hammer as he emptied four bullets into the guards.

Jay twirled his revolver back and forth as he eyed the passengers. "Now you know what we're capable of…" Jay grinned, holstering his revolver once more.

"Jay, get to the front and rob them folk," Aiden ordered. He glanced out of the window to see Luca cantering by, a rifle drawn. Sam wondered if he was watching for escaping passengers or do-gooders that might happen upon them.

"Kid, carry on with this one, I'll check up ahead…" Aiden moved through the train, leaving Sam alone in the carriage as he collected valuables.

A minute or so had passed and the sack was getting full until Sam reached an old woman at the back of the train, who stared determinedly out of the window as her husband handed over his watch.

"And the ring," Sam gestured to the gem-studded band the woman wore. "Ma'am, we ain't here to kill you…"

"Well, you shall have to," she declared. "It was my mother's ring and her mother's before her. I'll be damned if I let some vagrant come and rob me of it and leave me breathing."

Sam opened his mouth to respond but the look on that old woman's face… it had him at a loss. Instead, he walked to the end of the carriage and opened the door, calling to Aiden. "Hey! I got a lady here who don't understand the situation!"

"Does little _ñ__ino_ need someone to hold his hand?" Jay chortled from behind his mask.

"Chrissake…" Aiden stormed through the carriage, holstering his revolver as he arrived beside Sam. "What's goin' on?"

"You'll have to kill me if you want my ring," the woman said sternly. Aiden's hazel eyes glared into Sam's brown.

"You brought me here for _this_?" Aiden growled as he grabbed the man beside the woman and collided a fist into his face, his nose cracking. "Money!" Aiden punched him again. "Gold!" The woman tried to stop him, but Aiden drew his black revolver once again, pointing it at the woman's face. "Valuables," he snarled. The woman fumbled to remove her ring, handing it to Sam.

Up ahead, gunshots fired. Aiden and Sam moved towards the next carriage to see Jay standing there, a woman on the floor, holding her stomach as Jay swept a hand through his hair, twirling his revolver.

Aiden moved towards Jay, but Sam kept his eyes on the woman. She crawled along the floor, leaving a trail of blood from her pretty blue dress. He blonde hair curtained her grey eyes as her lips quivered, her hand reaching out to Sam.

"The hell is wrong with you?" Aiden snapped.

"She went for my gun!"

"So you shot her?"

"No-one touches my guns, _hermano_…"

Aiden's jaw clenched as he turned to Sam. "Tell Luca," he said lowly. Sam turned and left, hearing Aiden's loud voice as he did so. "Now y'all know who we are and what we do! If I see any of you hiding something, we'll do the same to you!"

Sam came outside the train and saw Luca there, a Litchfield repeater in hand as he hid his face behind a silk scarlet bandana. He looked so out of place – clad in a purple paisley-patterned vest and a white cotton shirt, a sky-blue necktie loosely wrapped around his neck. Flecks of grey peppered his dark hair beneath his large grey hat.

"What's going on in there?" He asked in his Southern twang.

"Jay shot some woman for taking his guns…"

"Goddamn Jay…" Luca muttered. "I ain't fond of hangin' round here…"

"Hey y'all!" A voice bellowed from between the trees in the distance. They looked to see two men appearing, barefoot, dressed in stained denim overalls. Blotches and boils riddled their faces as they came closer, rusted rifles over their shoulders. "Y'all havin' trouble with ya train?"

"Get Aiden…" Luca murmured before turning his horse towards them. "Well, good day, fine gentlemen!" Luca shouted to them in a fine English accent.

Sam ducked inside the carriage and waved Aiden over. "There's some fellas outside- Luca told me to get you."

Aiden moved past Sam, taking two shells from his vest pocket and loading them into his shotgun as he stepped outside.

"How many of y'all're in there?" One of the strangers asked.

"Any more of them?" Sam heard Aiden ask Luca quietly.

"Not that I can see…"

"Alright then, go get the horses…" Aiden snapped the barrel of the shotgun back into place and raised it to his chest as Luca's horse reared up and galloped away. "You fools better clear the hell outta here 'fore we decide to kill you as well!"

The two men immediately leapt for cover behind the nearest rocks and trees. "Shoot 'em! Shoot them sons a' bitches!"

Bullets clanged against the metal carriage as Aiden fell back inside, unscratched as he crawled along the floor to grab the rifle from the dead guard.

"Decided to have some fun, eh, _hermano_?" Jay grinned from the other carriage.

"You wanna help now?" Aiden shouted over the gunfire. "Or do you only shoot women?" Jay's face hardened as he stood up, kicking a rifle up into the air and grabbing it before walking towards the carriage door and firing at the treeline. Aiden's eyes fell on Sam, who was ducked behind the carriage window, loading his revolver. "Don't wear yourself out now, Sam…" Aiden muttered as he checked the rifle chamber and fired back at the treeline with Jay.

* * *

Charlotte stood at 5"2. A little on the skinny side, as the gang did not eat truly well, but she looked well enough. The one thing she didn't like was her blonde hair – it made her stand out from everyone…

The old woman, Paloma, tottered by slowly, adding chunks of hare to the pot of stew. She glanced up to see Charlotte reading her book as usual and rested her hands on her hips. "_Ñino_, put it down and help."

"Help how?" Charlotte raised an eyebrow

"Well… come cook with me- you used to love cooking…"

"What do you need help with?"

Paloma hung her head. She didn't miss this part of children. She'd turned seventy almost two months ago and felt what little remained of her patience being sapped by the thirteen-year-old girl. Still, Paloma could understand – she'd been her age once. "Check in with Enzo."

Charlotte slowly closed the book; Did she mind checking on Enzo? No, of course not. But she didn't want to do it because she was told to…

Finally, Charlotte rolled her eyes and stood up. "Fine, _Abuela_…" She drawled before walking away. Abuela never bothered anyone else to help… except, maybe Jay.

Charlotte arrived at the lilac tent, where Lana sat. Thirty years old, Lana's small scars on her face and hands had healed. Her skin had become thicker around her neck, her bronzed skin had turned lighter, her breasts heavier and her smile brighter and wider than Charlotte could ever remember.

"_Abuela_ says I have to come here to help you."

"I don't need help, _ñino_, but I would appreciate the company," Lana nodded to the rickety wooden chair outside the tent. Then, Lana turned back to the third person in the tent – on her knee was bouncing a young, olive-skinned toddler. It was hard to say who exactly he looked like more – both his parents had dark hair and brown eyes. Of course, Luca said the toddler looked like Lana, who said it was the other way around. For Charlotte, Enzo just looked like Enzo.

Then, she realized something. Why would Enzo look like either of them?

"Lana, where did Enzo come from?"

Lana's eyes grew wide for a moment as she turned to look at Charlotte, wholly and utterly taken by surprise. "I…" Lana blinked.

"What?"

"Nothing, it's…" Lana looked around the camp. "I don't think I should be the one…"

"Is it do with the screaming?"

"Screaming?" Lana frowned.

"You were screaming when Enzo was born."

"It's…" Lana bit her lip. "It's to do with the screaming… amongst other things." Lana patted Enzo's back as his tiny fist grabbed her shirt, his honey-brown eyes watching Charlotte. Who else was going to tell her? Alice MacKenzie didn't see it as a way to produce children, but rather a way to relieve stress. Anna, well, Lana was afraid talking about it would make her remember that darkest moment of her life. Paloma had given Lana a sour look until she and Luca were married… "Why don't you ask Ellie?"

"Because I'm asking you?" Charlotte's face scrunched up in confusion.

Lana glanced across camp to see the only other options: The greying priest, Elijah King, and the kindly old man, Near Simmons.

"Well…" Lana looked back to Charlotte. "Your bleeding. Every month out of…"

"Yes, yes, I remember," Charlotte snapped, her cheeks burning red.

"Well… the bleeding stops after a man… delivers his seed into you."

"His seed?" Charlotte asked slowly.

"Well… A man has… one of the differences between a man and a woman is that men have a… a member. And this goes inside you until a… seed is spilt."

Charlotte frowned. "Why?"

Lana shrugged. "I don't know. That's just how it works."

Charlotte looked up to see four horsemen return to camp. Sam ambled forwards on his Morgan beside Luca, Aiden and Jay.

* * *

"The men are back!" Jay dismounted, hoisting his saddle bags over his shoulder. "No-one will go hungry – Jay Gonzalez takes care of his own!" He said, walking forwards.

"He really thinks he's king of the castle, don't he?" Luca mumbled to Aiden.

"Let him think what he wants…" Aiden muttered before giving Luca a slap on the shoulder. "Go on, go be with your family."

Luca walked over to Lana, taking her into a hug and holding his cooing son. Aiden stood there, watching his old friends, holding their baby together. Man and wife. Pa and momma. It was strange, seeing them like that – they were that kid's world. He couldn't understand how they could be so calm – they could die at any minute. If he were in their shoes…

Aiden shook off the thought and walked towards his tent, sitting down on his fur cot and rolling himself a cigarette.

"Any problems?"

Aiden looked up to see Near hobbling over with his wooden cane. It was a marvel the man was still walking – the man was eighty Goddamn years old! Aiden gave the slightest grin as he rubbed the back of his head.

"Not much…"

"Meaning?"

"Well…" Aiden moved up so Near could sit beside him. "Some folk turned up. Real inbred hillbilly types. There were a bunch of them – all armed."

Near rubbed his jaw. "Hillfolk?" Aiden nodded. "Could be the Murfree Brood."

"They're still around?"

"Thing is with these types, they're hard to kill. Just like cockroaches… Tend to ambush folk on the road."

"Yeah, they look the type…" Aiden nodded.

"Anything else?"

Aiden glanced up to see Jay passing by Alice, stuffing fistfuls of dollars into the strongbox. "Jay shot a woman."

"He what?"

"She touched his guns, so…"

"So Jay did what Jay does." Near nodded.

"You going to tell Rune?"

"You reckon I should?"

"I don't know if it'll make a difference, but… well, Rune would want to know."

"Maybe he'll treat him like the prize pony as well," Aiden muttered darkly, his eyes flickering over to Sam. He knew he didn't mean it – he was just out of sorts. He breathed deeply and lit the cigarette, offering it to Near, who declined with a raised hand. "He ain't back yet?"

"Not yet. It's getting dark so… probably tomorrow." Near pushed himself up on his cane and looked down to Aiden. "You did good, son. Got everyone back in one piece and we've got more money today than we did yesterday."

Aiden shrugged. "Weren't me. Jay found out about the train, Luca ran point…"

"Ah, don't sell yourself short, Aiden."

"A woman still got shot, Near," he pointed out. "I thought we were done with that business."

Near sighed. "Me too, son. Me too."

* * *

Rune dragged the bottle of whiskey along the table and filled up his glass as he looked up at the young, copper-skinned man who swayed in his chair, leaning onto the rickety table as if his life depended on it.

"See, these folk," the young man slurred, rubbing the spilled whiskey from his stubbled chin, "these folk don't realize that we ain't so free of class- the British have got the upper class, the middle class and so on, but we have two: the proletariat…" he counted on his fingers, "and the bourgeoisie. The workers and the bosses. Poor and the rich." He poured himself a drink. "And all these… morons don't realize that's even how it works- mark me!"

"You're a learned man for Van Horn…" Rune commented, his eyes flickering across to Night's Hawk, who gave a smirk.

"Well, I grew up in Saint Denis," the man replied. "The jewel of the South…" he spat onto the floor. "Rich folk spat on me like that when I lost fights in them alleys."

"Boxing?" Anna raised an eyebrow.

"If you want," the man muttered, knocking back another glass of whiskey. "Then I turned fifteen – got to working in one of them Cornwall factories."

"What went wrong?" Anna asked.

"I think that _is_ what went wrong…" Rune said. "Working for folk like Cornwall – get a cent for every ten dollars he makes, I'd wager."

"Exactly- shit…" The man had pointed at Rune and knocked over the bottle. He tried to pick it up, dabbing his shirt sleeve on the table.

Rune's grey eyes flickered to Anna with a smile. "And you still work there?"

The man scoffed. "Not for a while. There was an… accident…" He looked up at Rune with a grin. "Kerosene is _very _dangerous to work with."

Rune grinned back. "So I've heard."

"Well… anyhow, the Kings in their castles called me as a troublemaker. Next thing y'know, I'm wanted for three hundred dollars."

"Three hundred?" Rune grinned. "Maybe we ought to turn you in."

"Something 'bout you tells me you ain't exactly the lawful type."

"Depends on what law you're talking about," Rune replied, filling his pipe with tobacco. "The law of man or the law of nature." Rune struck a match and began to light his pipe, the tobacco burning brightly and illuminating his tired, weathered and scarred features. He waved the match until the flame died into smoke and placed it on the table, puffing on his pipe. "So, how do you get your money now?"

"I've a business a little south of here…" the man shrugged. "Down in the bayou."

"The bayou?"

"Gators make for the best guard dogs."

Rune and Anna chuckled with the man. "Guarding what?"

The man raised a glass of whiskey, holding it up in the light. "Something better than this swill."

Rune removed the pipe from his mouth and leant forwards. "What's say me and my friends come take a look? See if we can help you with anything?"

The man nodded, picking up his black hat and sweeping his light hair back before donning the large-brimmed hat. "After you."

**First off, my internet history looks so weird after searching time-appropriate language pertaining to sex. I was tempted to have someone interrupt but, like… I figured it was more interesting to show the actual 'talk' rather than cutting back to Charlotte saying 'ewww'.**

**So, yeah, I'm glad I held off on writing this because Enzo was a new addition. I know some of you will be upset I didn't show Lana getting pregnant and being hormonal and so on with Luca and the gang helping her through it, but there's a reason for that, and it's purely narrative.**

**Also, I've decided that constantly saying 'I won't answer questions because of spoilers' is kinda unfair, because what if you all have questions that aren't answered until the end of the story? So, write down your questions, memorise them and so on and I promise you all that starting from ****now****, at the end of each story, I'll do my up-most best to answer any and all questions you have. **

**Review, Favourite, Follow (if you want to, that is) and I'll see you guys for the next chapter.**


	2. La Bevanda Forte

**So, here we are again! Man, it feels good to be back in the spurs… Star Wars was fun, but I've spent so long with (most of) these characters, it's so natural going back into it.**

**Erm, what can I tell you… 5 year jump, as many of you have already noticed, a new face or two and a new state! I also want to show more of gang members I've neglected a lil bit, so… keep an eye out.**

**Don't forget to drop a review! **

_Three Sisters, Grizzlies East, Ambarino_

_9__th__ September, 1907_

Near sat at the round table, disassembling and cleaning various rifles and shotguns as the birds called and fluttered from tree to tree. The sun had risen over the Three Sisters to noon as Paloma tottered over to the pot.

"What're we eating?" Near asked.

"Venison stew."

"You don't need to say stew, it's always stew…"

"Less of the cheek, Near." Paloma pointed at the old man as she wrapped a hand around the handle of the pot, struggling to lift it. "Jay! _¡Ven y ayúdame con esto!_"

"That ain't my job," Jay said as he puffed on a cigarette, leaning back on his chair.

"Jay!" Paloma barked.

"_¡Dije que no soy una mujer, estúpido!_" Jay shouted back to her.

Paloma rested her hands on her hips. "_Mocoso petulante..._" she muttered darkly. "_No sé lo que Rune estaba pensando contigo..._" She leant down to pick up the pot when Aiden moved past her, grasping the handle with one hand and carrying it over to her butcher's table. "Thank you, dear," Paloma smiled.

Aiden remained silent as he walked towards the table, his hazel eyes fixed on Jay.

"Quite the hero, huh, _hermano_?" Jay called across to him.

"Shut your damn mouth…" Aiden grunted, tired, as he sat down next to Near, assembling the guns for him. Jay stopped rocking on his chair and stood up, walking over to the table.

"Ain't got nothing else to do?"

"You still here?" Aiden asked, assembling his revolver.

"Looks like it, don't it?" Jay grinned.

The large flap of the burgundy tent opened and Rune exited, his greying beard cropped short. He pulled on his black duster and walked over to the table, picking up walnut Springfield rifle and pulling it over his shoulder. His steel grey eyes flickered up to Jay leaning on the table and Aiden glaring back at him.

"These two behaving themselves?" Rune asked Near.

"He is…" Near nodded to Aiden.

"Why you got-" Jay began.

"Jay, stop playing the fool," Rune said, picking up his revolvers and holstering them.

"But I didn't-"

"Does it sound like I want a conversation with you?" Rune asked, looking at Jay, who raised his hands and walked back to his chair. "Aiden, son, grab Sam, will you?"

"Why?"

"Because I asked?"

"For _what_, then?"

"We've got to see a man about a drink."

Aiden rolled his eyes and pushed himself off the barrel with a grunt, walking over to the blue tent near Rune's.

"Washington!" Aiden called, pulling back the flap to see Sam still in bed in his white union suit.

"What…" Sam mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

"You ain't even up yet?"

"I'm up, I'm up…"

"We're leaving in a minute. Get dressed and grab your iron." Aiden dawdled towards his tent, taking a cigarette from his blue vest and lighting it. He grabbed his cougar-fur coat and pulled it on his arm, looking over to see Father Elijah approaching him.

"Mr. McKneil!"

"Father."

"I see you and Rune are setting off again- are you going into town?"

"Not if I can help it…" Aiden pulled on the coat fully. "Why, what you after?"

"Isn't there the slightest chance I'm just making conversation?"

"No."

Father Elijah grinned and hung his head. "Well… I never was too talented at poker- I never had the face for concealing-"

"The point, Father?"

"Well…" Father Elijah glanced over his shoulder and then back to Aiden. "There's a church in Saint Denis. I was hoping that… well, if you were going into town, maybe I could accompany-"

"If you want to pray for our souls, Father, you can do it here…"

"Mr. McKneil, I've not been in a church for years now. And I think it would do Miss Charlotte some good to see one-"

"Rune know that you want to take Charlie to church?"

Father Elijah sighed. "_I_ don't want to, _she_ does." Aiden shook his head – going to see a church… he never understood it. "She's at a curious age – I think it would be good to educate her. And… well, who knows when we'll be near a church again?"

Aiden glanced over to Rune, who watched Sam exit his tent. Rune clapped him on the shoulder and handed him his revolver and a rifle. "Charlie wants to go?" Father Elijah nodded. "Let me talk with Rune."

"That's all I ask. I think it'd sound better coming from you…"

"Yeah, well I doubt that…" Aiden muttered.

"Thank you, Mr. McKneil."

"Sure."

"Aiden!" Rune called over. "Whenever you're ready."

Aiden threw the saddlebag over his shoulder and approached Rune and Sam. "Well, I was just waiting for Sleeping Beauty over here to come to."

"I'm here, aren't I?" Sam replied.

"So, we'll keep Alice in charge-"

"Alice?" Aiden scoffed. "That crazy woman?"

"She's been here longest-"

"Near should stay in charge," Aiden quietly told Rune.

"And what if Murfrees come a-calling? He'll just invite them in – give them all our gold?"

"He won't go killing everyone and bringing law 'round here – which is more than I can say for Alice."

Rune clenched his jaw before looking over to Near and hanging his head. "Mr. Simmons!" He called over. "You have the camp until we return. We'll be back at the end of the day."

"Right you are," Near replied in his southern twang.

"Luca!" Rune called across to the dark-haired man that was holding his child. "You good?"

Luca held Enzo close, patting his back. "Daddy's gon' be away for a bit, okay?" He said to the cooing child. "Y'all gon' spend the day with momma, ain't that fun?"

Lana smiled, taking Enzo back from Luca. "Be careful," she said to him.

"Gator's ain't gon' come near me – not with McKneil's withering stare…" Luca grinned. He pecked Lana on the lips and kissed Enzo's forehead before turning back to the three other men.

Ellie idly lay on the back of the wagon, smoking a cigarette as she crossed one leg over the other. She swung her foot back and forth – she loathed this boredom. True, it wasn't as bad as cleaning tables and picking pockets back at Smithfield's saloon in Valentine, but it was a lot more dreary… when the rest of the gang weren't butchering a town, at least.

"Stop doing that," Alice said, smacking Ellie's ankle back onto the bed of the wagon.

"Why?"

"'Cos I can see up ya skirts."

"So?"

"So you open your legs 'round me, I'll take it as an invitation," Alice spat the words.

Elvira sat up suddenly, slamming her hands onto the wagon bed as she glared at the Scot. "You're a rotten woman, you know that?" Alice responded with a wide smile. Elvira narrowed her copper eyes, settling them on Alice's silver Schofield revolvers. A plan unfurled in Ellie's head. "I used to share a bed with a rotten woman once."

"Oh?" Alice smirked.

It felt strange to Ellie – usually she'd puff out her bust to men and she'd pluck whatever she wanted from them so long as her hand squeezed their thigh. She'd done it so many times, she herself still found it surprising that she'd not been with a man – not properly, anyhow (though, not for lack of trying on Wite Massow's behalf… the bastard).

But with Alice… it felt too forced – she felt like a bit of an idiot doing it. But, she persisted; she interlocked her fingers behind her back, turning her face away from the woman and acting as if she didn't realize that a few layers of brown wool separated her breasts from Alice's.

"Not like… _that_, though…" Ellie said, feigning shyness. One of her hands snaked around to touch the wooden grip of the revolver…

"If you want my gun…" Alice drew her revolver, her lips inches away from Ellie's. "I'll give you my gun."

Ellie felt the barrel of the revolver press against her brown woollen shirt and touch her an inch about her navel. Ellie stood there for a moment, feeling Alice's warm breath engulf her lips, the slightest movement made their clothes move and graze across their bodies.

Ellie slapped the barrel of the revolver away, pointing at Alice. "You're a maniac…" She walked away, hearing Alice chortle.

Guido Martelli lounged in his chair, a cigarette burning idly as he listened to the gramophone. It reminded him of the Old Country… He tried to make himself more at peace with Pasta Alfredo, records from Sicily and the linen summer suits, but Saint Denis just made him feel sick.

It was the same with all the other places in America. They'd cook in lard, their bread was thick and heavy, their wine was abysmal and he'd never once seen so much as an olive. He closed his eyes and let out a long breath.

"You hear that, Fabio?" He moved the cigarette to his mouth and breathed out once more. "That's _real_ _musica_. None of this… _merda senza talento _they call music."

Giovanni stood by the window, drinking a small glass of red wine as he looked out of the mansion to see horses pulling carriages along the cobbled road. "_Si, __è__ opera di buffoni_."

Guido gave a smile. "Sit down, _mio amico_."

Giovanni slowly walked towards the chair beside Guido's and sat down, looking at his employer. Guido was a tall man, despite the fact his limbs were quite short. He had a long torso and a wide jaw. The thinnest of moustaches streaked above his lip and his dark hair was coiffed ever so casually to the side. Guido adjusted the white carnation on his jacket and puffed on his cigarette again before looking back over to Giovanni, awaiting an explanation.

"You think the _piccolo_\- Signor Esposito is of any help?"

Guido pulled on his cigarette once more until the door opened and a short, pudgy-looking man entered. His black hair was parted in the middle, wet with pomade. His moustache was not as well groomed as Guido's, though not for lack of trying. His muddy brown eyes were visible behind his brass-rimmed spectacles as he pinned a lilac boutonnière to his lapel.

"_Buon Pomeriggio, Signores_."

"Ah, Ricky," Guido smiled, standing up to clasp the shorter man's hand. "_Stai bene, no_? Didn't touch any of the _negri sporchi_, eh?"

"No, no," Ricky laughed nervously as he sat down in the chair opposite Guido, dabbing his forehead with a hankerchief.

"Giovanni, a drink, eh?" Guido looked to the younger man, who walked to the bottle of wine, pulling out the steel stop and slowly rotating the bottle into the crystalline glass before walking it over to Riccardo Esposito, who took a long sip with a grateful moan. "So, business first, no?"

"Yes- _si, signor_," Riccardo cleared his throat and opened his briefcase and removed a thick leather-bound ledger, which he placed on the desk, in front of Guido.

"You know, Bronte, he never thought about this," Guido tapped the page of the ledger. "No, dealing with Braithwaites and employing them… you only employ people you trust, Giovanni."

"Of course, _Signor_."

Guido removed the cigarette from his mouth and tapped the page. "What's this, what's this number?"

"That is the tax from Doyle's saloon, _Signor_."

"Tax?" Guido frowned. "That low? What does Doyle sell?"

"_La… bevanda forte_," Riccardo began to explain, clenching a fist, "moonshine, _Signor_."

"Moonshine?" Guido asked, rubbing an eye. "_Cos'__è__ 'Moonshine'_?"

Giovanni raised his glass of wine. "_come grappa_ _o_ _abbardenti_…"

Guido let out a small scoff. "_Gli Americani sono volubili… A loro non piace pi__ù__ questa 'moonshine'_?" Guido turned to Giovanni. "Send Signor Offrenti around to deal with _Signor_ Doyle, Giovanni."

"_Naturalmente, Signor Martelli_." Giovanni bowed his head and began to leave before Guido called over to him once more.

"Giovanni?" Guido removed the cigarette from his mouth. "_Dai i miei saluti a tuo figlio_."

Giovanni nodded. "_Si, Signor. Grazie, Signor_." He bowed his head and exited the room.

**I know, a lot of Italian in this. But there's a reason for it and… well, we'll see if that came across. Don't worry, there won't be too many scenes like this (where like a quarter is in another language), so feel free to close that translation tab! Unless you're actually fluent in which case… cool!**

**So, a little PA – an extra phase has been added BUT that's purely because phase 5 was going to be like 30 chapters and I'd feel better putting it down as two 15-chapter stories – a hell of a lot more manageable.**

**Anyway, PA over – I'll see you guys for the next chapter, which'll hopefully be up in a couple of days.**

**R.**


	3. An Honest Industry

**Been a while, guys – there was a death in the family, so I had to travel and do the whole 'Irish wake' stuff. Anyhoo, here's a chapter – the rest will be up next week most likely. I'm also ill atm, so… I hope you all like this chapter – the next one is one I'm really looking forward to writing.**

**Also, my bad – I'm changing the year this is set from 1907 to 1905 – that was a mistake on my part because (for once, I'm letting you guys in on my story structure) the **_**next**_** instalment will be set in 1907.**

_Bayou Nwa, Lemoyne_

_9__th__ September, 1905_

Sam ambled along the wet mud on his American Paint gelding, Wild Boy. He kicked against the belly and trotted up alongside Luca, watching Rune and Aiden lead in the front. The Bayou was a strange place; Sam was used to the heat. He had been since he'd arrived in Scarlett Meadows all those years ago. But, as he heard the strange clicking and ripples of water, Sam was alert. He swallowed and clenched the leather reins.

"First time?" Luca asked. Sam turned to see the dark-haired man glance over to him. Luca was dressed in a fine striped shirt with a bright scarlet vest and a grey bowler hat. "Don't worry, gators don't come onto the road."

"I ain't worried," Sam insisted.

"'Course you are." Luca scoffed. "Just like you were worried back on that train." Sam turned to look at Luca, whose brown eyes set on the boy. "I'm presuming that's why ya didn't shoot?"

Sam licked his lips, making sure Aiden and, more importantly, Rune were out of earshot. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry, Sam," Luca said, waving a hand, "nah, it's a strange thing, killing a fella for the first time. Ya realize just how fragile we all are – ain't quite as unbreakable as we can feel sometimes."

Sam looked out to the swamp, scanning it for movement before looking back to Luca. "When did you do it first? Shoot a fella?"

Luca let out a long breath, eyes angled up to the sky. "First time, I woulda been… fourteen? Fifteen, maybe? My daddy had just died."

"So, it was revenge?"

"Huh?"

"Did you shoot the man who shot your daddy?"

Luca's brown eyes settled on Sam for a moment. "Boy, you've gotta stop reading them stories." Sam felt his cheeks burn for a moment. "My daddy died of consumption. I was gon' say he hadn't taught me how to use it, so I _accidentally_ shot one of Sheriff Gray's deputies."

Sam frowned. "You knew Sheriff Gray?"

"'Course I did. I was born near Rhodes, y'know." Luca smiled. "Anyway, Gray was real nice 'bout it. I paid him five dollars for the doctor's and made my way to New Austin."

"So, you didn't kill him?"

"It's hard to shoot a fella from shooting him in the foot," Luca stated. "First time I _killed_ a man… well, I was selling snake oil. Y'know, useful as piss- in fact, half the time it _was_ piss but however we can make money." Luca straightened up on his horse, Caesar. "Anyway, I'm selling it in… Tumbleweed, I think? Some fella comes over and calls me a huckster and a shyster and tells me to draw. I don't want to, but, y'know, he pulls out his iron so…" Luca shrugged. "What am I going to do, I shot him down. Dumb luck on my part…" Luca gave a dark chuckle.

"So… you had to do it?"

"Well, I don't know, Sam. At the time, sure. But… maybe I coulda convinced him otherwise. Maybe he wouldn't have pulled the trigger if I hadn't drawn. Hell, I coulda just given him his money back." Luca looked back to the younger boy. "Time spent in the past is time wasted, Sam. Hell, Rune and Aiden can tell you that better than I can."

"I'm surprised he string a sentence together…" Sam muttered darkly.

Luca chortled. "Way I heard it, he pretty much saved your hide on that train."

"I didn't ask him to!"

"Doesn't matter…" Luca replied.

"Alright boys," Rune called from the front as he dismounted, "let's go meet our pals!"

"Fact is, we're family," Luca explained to Sam. "We may bicker and fight, but we've got each other's backs, no matter what. When the chips are down, ya gotta be willing to kill for your family – cos they've already done the same for ya."

The four hitched their horses to the posts outside a small series of rickety wooden cabins by the bayou river and made their way towards a short caramel-coloured man. His dark hair was wild and untamed, falling down in erratic spirals to his shoulders. His bright icy-blue eyes flickered up from the black bullwhip in his lap. He rose to his feet, wrapping the whip around his gunbelt (next to one of his Cattleman revolvers), and picked up his blackened-steel carbine repeater. He cocked the lever and popped out a bullet case as he walked towards the gang.

The man was dressed strangely for a Native – though he may have been Spanish, he wore a purple feather from his ear, beside the ugly, gruesome scar carved across his cheek. What was more noticeable than that, for Sam, at least, was his clothes.

The man wore a dark shirt beneath a black duster, with a purple cravat crudely tied around his neck. He cocked his head beneath the black felt hat with a streak of purple fastened around the brim.

"Hey, Luca, he stole your hat…" Aiden muttered to Luca, earning a snigger from Rune.

"Good day, friend, we, uh…" Rune fell short of words as the man's gun slowly drifted to aim at Rune's chest. "We're here to see your boss." The man's head slowly cocked to the other side, jaw clenched.

"Rune, I, uh…" Sam cleared his throat. "I don't think he speaks English."

"Sure he does," Rune said, taking a step so the gun was pressed against his burgundy shirt. "We're here to see Elias Harper."

The man's rifle moved up to Rune's throat and, in half of a heartbeat, Aiden's black cattleman revolver was cocked and pointed at one of the man's eyes.

"Put it down, fella," Aiden growled.

"Easy, Aiden," Rune said, raising a hand.

"I'll blow a goddamn hole through your head," Aiden pressed the revolver closer, so that the silver engraving was obscured in the dock-ropes of hair.

"Aiden!" Rune barked. "There's a time for fire, son."

Aiden's hazel eyes drifted from the man to Rune before Aiden reluctantly lowered his revolver. The man narrowed his eyes at Aiden.

"Are you his lover?" He asked.

Aiden's fingers flexed around the revolver for a moment. Tahoma let out a loud, piercing whistle and moments later, one of the doors to the cabins opened and another man, shaggy-haired and stumbling, careened out. He clapped his green eyes on Rune and laughed.

"Comrade!" Elias laughed loudly. "Rune, my friend!"

"Mr. Harper," Rune smiled as Elias approached, "we were just having the most intriguing chat with your associate here."

"Ah, Tahoma is good people – a little cold, but… he has his uses." Elias slapped the man on the shoulder. "Tahoma, go and tell Ambrosia to take watch."

"She's with her horse."

"Then tell her to do whatever she's doing out _here_." Tahoma rolled his eyes and waved a hand, taking a pipe out of his duster. Elias straightened up and clapped his hands together. "Comrades, allow me to show you an honest industry."

* * *

Juniper? No, juniper was for gin. Barley was beer, honey was mead… and wine, come to think of it. Ginseng? Wasn't much of a taste – thyme was nice, but that was cooking. This was cooking. But not cooking in the same way.

Berries make it sweet. But too sweet is sickly. Berries? Not juniper, not juniper – cherries? Blackberries? Raspberries? Evergreen? Huckleberry? Winterberry? Why berries – he'll not have any skin in the drink – he'd have to squeeze each of them.

The door opened, but Raven paid no mind to it. No time to think – people are irrelevant to his work. Irrelevance is uselessness. Mint could be good. But it'd need to be kept cold…

"Gentlemen, meet Raven Fletcher," Elias said as he led the strangers inside, "just where he should be."

"He should be in bed…" The broad-shouldered, dark-haired man (the only one absent a hat) said.

"Ray? We have guests."

Raven looked up. Guests – he'd been told what to do if he had guests. It was always very polite to offer guests a drink. So, the lad jumped up and made his way to the distillery, turning the valve and filling up a jar full of shine.

"You've learned him well…" The man with a greying beard commented.

"Ray is a… peculiar one."

Raven tried to smile – it was polite to smile. He filled up five small glasses to the absolute brim with shine, making sure not a drop overflowed onto the cracked wooden table, before walking the drinks over to the men.

The dark-haired, clean-shaven man knocked back the shot and licked his lips. "The hell is this?" He muttered.

"Ray's brand of shine."

"Never had moonshine like that before…" The stranger muttered again.

"Best in Lemoyne," Elias explained as Raven walked back to his seat, crossing his legs and examining the plants in front of him. _If_ he were to use ginseng – hypothetically, American or Alaskan? "Undercut the rest of the market."

"I imagine it wasn't that hard, what with the Davenports out of business now…" The older man crossed his arms, his eyes flitting over to the stocky man that walked towards Raven.

"Where's your family?" The man asked. Raven ignored the man – he spent his time, his game was shine, worth a dime, like monkeys climb… "What's he sayin'?"

"Sings sometimes when he concentrates- he's fine," Elias insisted. "So, to business?"

"Right," the older man said. Raven began to roll up his sleeves, his nails scratching against the old, half-healed scars that covered his arms like tiger stripes.

"As we discussed…" Elias began.

"Hold on…" the burly one raised a hand and walked towards them. "The kid's arm?"

"His father," Elias said as he dawdled over to the big one's side, "right bastard from what I can make sense of."

"Where is he now?"

"Died coming over from Britain." Elias leant down to talk to Raven. "These fellas are friends, Ray."

Raven didn't like eyes – big holes in the head, it was unnerving. Like being in the air mid-jump – he knew he'd have to come back down.

"So, as I was saying…" Elias continued on, straightening up and pacing around the distillery. "I've enough manpower to drive a wagon over to Rhodes and avoid the eyes of Uncle Sam, but… that's Lemoyne. I've recently gained the interest of folk in New Hanover and West Elizabeth…"

"Where, exactly?" The youngest stranger, who looked to be around Raven's age, asked.

"Valentine and Strawberry."

The three older strangers shared a look. "'Course…" The big one muttered.

"Familiar, are you?"

"You could say that…" the dark-haired one said in his soft southern twang.

"So, you escort my cargo and deliver back payment, I'll give you fifteen percent of my overall payment, which is…" Elias clicked a finger at Raven.

"Nine hundred dollars."

Elias nodded as the men all shared a look.

"N-nine hundred?" the youngest one asked. "That's amazing…"

"That's horse-shit," the big one scoffed. "We're running this – taking all the risk."

"I need to pay my people. Buy more ingredients – not to mention keep some of the profit…" Elias shrugged. "Fifteen is a good offer."

"We know how much you're making off this shine, don't start acting the broken beggar with us," the southern man said.

Elias looked at each of the men, biting his lip. "Twenty." He said finally.

"Twenty-five," the older man replied.

"Rune, why're we wasting our time with these fools?"

"Fool?" Elias cocked his head to the side. "That's ironic, ain't it?"

The man took a step towards Elias, but Rune put a hand on his shoulder. "Excuse my son, Mr. Harper," Rune said with a slight chuckle, "I seem to have mis-taught him in manners."

"Apparently…" Elias muttered, pouring himself another glass of shine.

"This son of a bitch wants us to ferry this shine across two states, take the scraps and say 'thank you'?"

Elias knocked back the drink and stifled a burp. "More or less…"

"I oughta beat some sense into you…"

"That's it." Rune straightened up. "Go wait outside."

"What?"

"If ya gonna act like a child, I'll treat you like one, now go and wait outside."

The younger man looked from Rune to Elias and let out a scoff before walking back towards the door. "Never woulda thought you'd be as dumb as you look…"

"Whatever you say, you fool…" The man exited the shack, slamming the door.

Rune gently stroked his grey-peppered beard and faced Elias. "I'd be happy with twenty percent – Hell, I'd have been happy with fifteen…"

"Wonderful!" Elias clapped his hands together. "Fifteen percent – you can thank the arrogance of your comrade-"

"Said comrade is my son, Mr. Harper," Rune said firmly, "and he may be bold, but he _is_ speaking sense; We're lugging this through two states we're wanted men in." Rune shrugged. "It's an added risk for us."

Elias pinched the bridge of his nose. "Alright, so what do I get for twenty-five percent? Except less profit?"

"Well, you get an assurance that everyone pays what they should," Rune stated. "Peace of mind."

"Is that so?"

"You saw what my boy was like – ready to kill like a wild dog. If someone doesn't pay, he's off the leash."

Elias nodded, biting his lip. "So, twenty?"

"Luca?" Rune asked the dark-haired man, who walked around the shack, watching the shine be infused with sweetness and honey. "Luca?"

"Hm?"

"You good to run this?" Luca shrugged, looking around.

"You want me to?"

"Getting money from fools – your speciality."

"Depends on _how_…" Luca replied. "But twenty percent is… what, twelve hundred?" He looked to Ray, who nodded. "There's twelve of us, so after putting half to save, that's… what, fifty dollars each?" Luca shrugged. "Just don't seem worth the risk." Luca crossed his arms. "Half."

"Half?" Elias exclaimed.

"Only way we get everyone on board. Promise of money and-"

"You've not paid anything to build these routes or finance this-"

"My associate has a habit of reaching for more than he can hold," Rune laughed nervously. "Comrade, all men are made equal. All we ask is for fair pay for the risk we undertake. Transporting supplies across stateliness… that'll surely keep you in business."

Elias bit his lip, hands on his hips as he looked back to Raven. "Ray, twelve hundred dollars doubled – what percent is that?"

"Forty," Raven said in less than a heartbeat.

"That's my offer."

Elias stretched out a hand. Rune glanced to Luca, who nodded. Rune clasped the hand. "Comrade, we have an accord."

* * *

Aiden walked outside and drew a cigarette from his tin of tobacco – he'd taken to rolling as they found themselves further and further into the wild. But it wasn't the wild he wanted – it was the west and nature and freedom. It was a thin spit of land surrounded by civilization and the bastardy it brought.

Aiden lit the cigarette and looked up to see his gold-coated Turkoman, Ryder, stamp his feet and twitch his ears around at the clicking and buzzing in the bayou. The water rippled and thick steaming shit slipped out of the horse's ass.

"Easy, boy," Aiden called out to his horse, walking forwards and rubbing the space between his eyes, where a white bolt sat. The stallion nickered some and settled down. "I know, I hate it here too…" He muttered, looking around the swamp as he rubbed down Ryder's shimmering neck. "How the hell did we get all the way over here, huh?" Aiden gave a scoff as his fingers became entangled and lost in the brilliant white mane of Ryder. He stopped stomping his feet and lowered his head, one of his ears twitching to Aiden, who puckered his lips. "That's it, boy…" Aiden shushed him, "that's it… You're a good boy."

Ryder's head rose up, his ear twitching in another direction. Aiden's heart skipped a beat as he saw Ryder's caution. Aiden shushed him some more, turning around with a hand on his gun until he saw a tall giant of a woman. Taller than any woman (and most men) Aiden had ever seen, the woman's auburn hair fell to the small of her back in a wild, unkempt braid. Olive-skinned like Luca and Lana, the woman's eyes were remarkably round and green.

She looked up at Aiden for a moment before turning her attention back to her horse: a mottled storm-grey Shire draft, twice the size of Ryder. The woman began to pull on the uptugs of the mare's saddle, causing it to rear and try to buck it off.

The woman barked in a foreign tongue before plucking her plaited bullwhip from her belt and unfurling it and cracking it against the horse's side. The shire began to back away and the woman pulled on the reins, barking at the horse and cracking the whip once again.

Aiden turned away from the sight – it was none of his business. Wasn't his horse – he didn't even speak the woman's language. But he kept hearing that horse whinny and stomp as the whip cracked again and again.

Aiden saw Ryder pant and move from side to side. It was the sound…

He walked tightened Ryder's reins on the post and marched towards the woman as she readied the whip again. "Stop!" Aiden called over to her. She paid him no mind as she continued to shout at the horse in her native tongue again. "I said, stop!" The woman readied her whip over her shoulder and Aiden grabbed it and yanked her backwards, hard. She fell into the wet dirt and raised the whip up high.

"See how you like it!" Aiden shouted, bringing the whip down hard and thrashing the woman hard across her body. She raised an arm to shield herself, though it did little good. Every lash knocked her back down to the ground, regardless of how fast she tried to stand up.

"Jesus Christ, Aiden!" Luca came between the two of them, placing his hands on Aiden's chest. "Get a hold of yourself, man!"

"What's your boy doing?" Elias shouted from the doorway as Rune marched towards Aiden, smacking the bullwhip from his hand.

"Good question," Rune hissed.

"I'll kill him," the woman shouted in a thick accent, "I'll skin him-"

"You shut your damn mouth, woman!" Aiden growled.

"I work with horses – you, you do not!" The woman rose to her feet, trying to move around Luca. "You're an idiot-"

"The hell did you just say to me?" Aiden took a step, only to have Rune shove him back a step. Rune took a deep sigh and pointed a shaking finger at Aiden.

"Apologise…" Rune growled.

"To this creep- she's as dull as a bag of bricks!"

"You don't talk about me that way-" the woman began.

"You use that whip again, I'll beat ya to death with it!"

"Calm the hell down, boy!" Rune hissed, grabbing the back of Aiden's neck and speaking low into his ear. "Don't let your bluster ruin this opportunity for the gang!"

Aiden knocked Rune's hand off his neck and glared at the woman before walking away towards his horse. Rune straightened down his vest and turned around, scratching his earlobe. "Forgive his ire, comrade, he's… as I said, a wild dog," Rune chuckled politely.

"So we see," Elias replied.

"Miss, please accept my deepest apologies – he's touched in the head – doesn't know his own strength sometimes…"

Samuel Washington dawdled past Rune, wondering how the man was able to lie so gracefully and effortlessly. He looked down onto the floor and saw a small glint in the mud. Kneeling down, he picked up a small, battered pocket watch. The face was quite badly cracked and the case was dented… He looked from the woman to Aiden, biting his lip. He knew Aiden _had_ a watch…

Sam walked back to Aiden, clearing his throat. "Hey, Aiden?" The man didn't turn to face him. "It's… is this your watch?"

Aiden froze, his hand clutching one of his vest pockets. He turned around to see the muddied watch in Sam's hands and, for one second, his eyes grew wide and fearful. He viciously snatched the watch out of Sam's hands, wiping the mud with his shirt sleeve. The shirt was probably worth more than the damn piece of junk.

"You're welcome," Sam muttered, "crazy man…"

**So, there's the chapter. Pretty long one but I'm happy with it. I've already begun on the next one so hopefully it'll be up tomorrow. Don't forget to drop a review.**

**R. **


	4. A Few Bottles of Shine

**So, the reason why I accepted this character is because everyone's characters despises the Pinkertons for reasons X, Y and Z and that just feels… like, too predictable, I guess? So, special thanks to **_Lawrence Cartwright_ **for making this one, but also, **_motordog_ **went above and beyond in creating characters for me.**

_13th September, 1905_

_Blackwater, West Elizabeth_

The door opened to the office and Buck Bayfield entered. His dark hair was cropped short, his beard long and thick. He was a lean man, clad in a black suit with a derby hat in hand. A neatly folded silver pocket square glistened in lantern-light as he stepped in front of the large board. He drew his watch from his right vest pocket and clicked the case open. 08:38 am – not long now.

Buck opened up his case and began to pin the Wanted posters on the board. The door knocked and Buck called to enter. Walking inside was a taller man, a good few years younger than Buck. This man was lean with a smart haircut, pale-faced with ruddy cheeks.

"Agent Bayfield?" The man asked.

Buck nodded and stretched out a hand. "Good to meet you. And you're…" Buck glanced over to the papers on the desk beside his briefcase.

"Agent Finch."

"I've heard a lot about you, Finch…" Buck clasped his hands behind his back. "I trust you shan't disappoint?"

"You are right, agent."

The door opened again and two others entered – a man and a woman. The woman was around Finch's age, with bright blue eyes and waves of brown hair. She had a pretty face – dainty. Finch knew this woman – Loreena Jones had been a secretary before he'd requisitioned her. She wore britches with a close-fitted jacket, buttoned at the top. Behind her was Declan Winters, the tallest in the room, dressed in a smart black suit with a paisley black-and-gold vest.

"Come you in, take a seat," Buck gestured to the desks and, moments later, three chairs had been shuffled together as the agents sat in front of the board, looking at the posters. "Each of you has been hand-picked by the powers that be to find the-"

The door opened again and a shorter (in fact, a _very_ short) man in his forties with pale skin. He closed the door behind him and gave Buck a curt nod before dragging a chair behind the three and lighting a cigar.

"Find the place okay?" Buck asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Just fine," the man replied.

Buck grinned. "As I was saying…" He looked back to the other three agents, "each of you has been hand-picked by our superiors to assemble a team with one purpose." He gestured to the board. "We are going to be the ones who take down the Rune Brody gang."

"The who?" The short man asked.

"The Rune Brody gang," Finch said, "listen to the man."

"I heard him, I'm asking _who_."

"Why don't you let him tell you, Shorty?"

Buck scratched his nose. "I get it, okay? Each of you is here because you want to get ahead." He glanced between Oliver 'Shorty' Larson, Declan Winters, Martin Finch and Loreena Jones. "You've proven to be some of our most promising agents, and this is your chance to shine. But I'm telling you now – if _one_ of us wins, we _all_ win. So quit bickering. Okay?"

The men (and woman) quietened down some, grumbling and nodding in agreement. Buck took off his jacket and folded it over the chair next to him before pointing at the posters assembled at the bottom of the board.

"A bulk of the gang is made up of pickpockets, elderly- a preacher even…"

"Seriously?" Finch's face crumpled in surprise.

"Quite so. But, these aren't the people that are threats. If possible, we let these ones get out and fade into obscurity…"

"You're not talking of letting them get away, surely?" Winters asked.

"I'm talking about ending the gang, agent Winters. Our benefactors have been quite clear that we are for that end. Now, as I was saying, to bring about the end, we need to target the ringleaders…" Buck assembled a pyramid of 'Wanted' posters on the board. "What makes this gang dangerous is what makes them different – they see themselves as redeemers and champions of the down-trodden…"

"Says who?"  
"Our boys are fond of monologues."

"Of what?" Shorty squinted.

"Monologues," Loreena explained. "You've not seen a play?"

"Oh, you mean a soliloquy…"

"No, I don't."

"Sweetheart, I think you do…"

"Back to the point, please?" Buck said loudly before pointing at the poster on the bottom of the pyramid. "Alice MacKenzie – known as Turncoat MacKenzie around these parts…" Buck examined the drawing of the woman, her hair obscuring most of her face. "Killed a dozen lawmen – that we know of – but more noticeably…" Buck picked up a paper file and handed it to Finch. "Francis Durand – Manager of the Rhodes Bank in Scarlett Meadows, Lemoyne."

"Francis Durand…" Finch said in a mockingly posh accent before passing the file along to Winters. "Reckon any woman could have taken him out…" Buck saw Loreena Jones roll her eyes.

"What we can deduce from MacKenzie's killings is that she does not hold herself to the same 'moral code' of the gang." Buck pointed at her poster. "This one is a target – alive, preferably, but she's going to hang, make no mistake. She kills for nothing else than the joy of it…"

"Edgar Watson insists she always spoke of making a name for herself," Winters said, tapping the file before handing it to Jones.

"That interview _is_ seven years old, agent Winters." Buck pointed at the next poster. "New guy, James Gonzalez. Former Del Lobo that's been running with Brody nigh on three months now." He turned back to the others. "Gonzalez prides himself on killing Pinkertons. Claims we 'wrongfully' hanged his father and brother, Reynaldo and Flavian, respectively."

"Did we?" Jones raised an eyebrow.

Buck crossed his arms. "I don't know. I wasn't there…" He flexed his jaw. "But this son of a bitch has killed two agents already. Nothing justifies that."

Jones nodded. "And the others?"

Buck turned to the other poster of a woman. "Alanza Huerte. Caught up in the gang's robbery – just across the square – and is now a member. Maybe they twisted her mind somehow…"

"She's a woman, it's not that complicated…" Finch explained. "She saw men with guns and decided to mount them." Finch turned to Shorty, who nodded in agreement. Jones pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Huerte was active until a few years ago. Now there's rarer sightings." Buck turned to another poster. "Samuel Washington. Joined in Rhodes in '02, misspent youth- speaking of…" Buck turned to the second tier of posters, "Aiden McKneil, muscle, unruly son…" Buck paused as the agents chuckled, "Rune's right-hand man. Luca D'Angelo." he tapped the poster beside McKneil's. "Huckster. One of the longest-serving and most active members of the gang. If McKneil's the right hand, D'Angelo is the left. And lastly, we have the man himself…" Buck pointed at the poster on top. The man with a clean-shaven jaw, scars and nicks on his face and eyes staring forward intently. "Rune Brody. We take this cocksucker down, no matter what."

"And how do we do that?" Winters asked.

Buck stroked his chin. "Their targets tend to be wealthy – trains, banks… Brody isn't some madman hellbent on chaos, he has a purpose – a motive."

"Sure – money," Shorty said at the back. "That's what motivates all these lowlife."

"I don't know…" Buck murmured, looking at his poster. "It can't just be money. You rob a bank and disappear if you want money…" Buck blinked and realized he wasn't alone with his thoughts. "The point is that he's a reasonable man."

"You want to cut a deal with him?"

"If Brody confesses to masterminding the riverboat massacre as well as the shooting of lawmen in Scarlett Meadows and Strawberry, I will assure that most of the gang gets out unscathed."

"So, Brody's our primary target?" Winters asked.

Buck paused, looking back at the board. "Possibly…" he murmured. "In part."

"In part?" Finch frowned.

Buck tapped the poster of McKneil – a man with teeth bared as he glared forward, an ugly scar carved across his eyebrow and blinding his eye. "Aiden Lorcan McKneil. Brody's protégé and lead enforcer within the gang."

"So, he's a committed thug?" Shorty shrugged. "And?"

"The Blackwater robbery, the shoot-out in Strawberry, the bank in Valentine, the riverboat massacre… we have reports of McKneil at each major play Brody makes. Not to mention…" Buck picked up Brody's file and tossed it over Winter's head to Shorty. "Check the name of Brody's last employer."

Shorty opened up the file and flicked through a few pages, skimming and muttering under his breath. Finally he looked up. "Patrick McKneil."

"McKneil Sr. was a rancher. He raised horses and Brody, after his service in the military, lived and worked on that same ranch with his family."

"What happened to them?" Winters asked.

"McKneil died of cholera in '89-"

"No, Brody's family."

"Same thing. Cholera outbreak."

"As fascinating as this is," Finch sighed, "is this really important?"

"If we get Brody, McKneil takes command. And you can bet that his first move will be to come to us and take Brody back."

"Do we care?" Finch shrugged. "Bring him to us – that sounds like the best way forward."

Finch opened his briefcase and removed another file, handing it to Finch. "Back in '02, they found one of their members pinned to a wall with knives after being repeatedly raped." He handed over the dozen eye-witness accounts, describing the gruesome scene. "Days later, over a hundred people had been gunned down- is that a coincidence, do you think?" Finch grew quiet. "We take out the ringleaders, but if we take Brody, we take McKneil too!"

In the far outreaches of civilization, deep in the forest filled with hillfolk and curiosities, the large camp was starting to bustle as the Rune Brody gang set about with their day.

Near, the old man, sat at the table, bouncing the eighteen-month baby Enzo on his knee as he spoke to Luca. "Odd, you say?"

"Odd," Luca repeated himself, "strange, at best, but… harmless."  
"Well, y'all meet a lot of odd folk out this way…"

"So, how much are ya shifting?"

"Eighteen bottles a crate, thirty-six crates in total."

"Jesus, that's a lotta shine…" Near looked down at Enzo. "Ain't that a bunch, Enzo?" The baby cooed. "Just in Lemoyne?"

"Well, folks 'round this way are miserable. Miserable people love to drink."

"I think you well know that's true of folk everywhere…"

"I reckon that's why he chose us," Luca said. "Reckon that when the Davenports died, so did their liquor business. Since they ain't knocking about, Harper's expanding his business."

"Expanding where?"

"Valentine and Strawberry." He scoffed. "For a dry town, Strawberry has a lotta shine…"

"Making something illegal only makes it more expensive."

"So, who's going?" Near asked as Enzo's hands stretched out, clasping for Luca. Luca bit his lip in thought as he took the baby back from Near, letting the baby's hand wrap around his finger.

He shrugged. "I don't really know – in truth, I think Rune wants Aiden heading up this one."

There was a loud whistle and Luca immediately stood up, holding Enzo close as he looked to the only pathway in. Horses were heard and, a moment later, a wagon driven by two people, along with two horses and a single rider, came into view.

"Calm down, folks," Rune said, walking into the centre of the camp with Aiden at his side, "calm down – they're friends!"

Elias jumped off the wagon, Tahoma at his side. They entered the camp while Ambrosia, the giantess, remained on horseback. "Comrade Brody!" Elias said loudly, shaking his hand enthusiastically, "so good to see you once more!"

"You as well, comrade, you as well!" Rune chuckled. "These are your goods?"

"They are indeed!"

"Aiden, Luca," Rune said, jerking his head. Luca saw Lana and handed the baby over to her before walking towards the wagon.

"So, erm," Elias cleared his throat, "how many are accompanying this wagon?"

Rune turned to Aiden. "Aiden?"

The younger man scratched the back of his head. "Need two men just to drive the wagon alone. One at the front, one at the rear… Four. Any more and folk'll know you're carrying something valuable."

"Sam could ride alongside you- Sam!" Rune called the boy over.

"I ain't been funny Rune, but with Washington along with us, that's half a man – if that."

"Real funny," Sam replied as he approached.

"Okay, so, Sam, you, Luca…"

"A second, Rune?" Aiden asked. Rune gave a nod and Elias walked away with Tahoma, checking the saddle on the other horse. "If we're riding back into Valentine, some folk are bound to recognize us."

"It's been three years, Aiden, surely that stuff has died down…" Rune assured him.

"What, with all the trouble we stirred up there?"

"What exactly _happened_ in Valentine?" Sam asked quietly. The three other men shared a look.

"Bunch of folk died – same as ever," Aiden explained, "point is that Luca shouldn't be coming with us. He's got folk now."

"I don't need no hand-holding," Luca insisted, "I'll pull my weight – same as I always have."

"You got a kid, Luca," Aiden stated. "Last thing we need is you running off into gunfights with the rest of us…"

"If I'm there, there won't _be_ any gunfights…"

"I've heard that before…"  
"Do you reckon there will be trouble, Aiden?" Rune asked in his gruff accent. Aiden looked from Luca to Rune and shrugged.

"I'm just saying, Rune, how many folk have _we_ killed for a few bottles of shine?"

"Alright then. Luca, you stay here – spend time with your family. Aiden, Sam, take Alice and Jay with the pair of you-"

"Oh, Jesus…" Aiden muttered.

"What?"

"Rune, you know how I feel 'bout those two…"

"No, we don't," Luca said dryly and Aiden replied with a grimace.

"Put aside your misgivings, son," Rune said quietly, "this is _business_." Rune called over to Elias, "Comrade, Aiden, Sam and two of our best guns will be escorting your fine shine."

"The boy?" Elias glanced over at Sam.

"He is as a son to me," Rune explained as Aiden rolled his eyes.

"Well, if you trust comrade McKneil…" Elias cast an eye over Aiden.

"Oh, he is gifted when it comes to robbing and killing, but as I've taught him, we help folk who need it."

"Oh yeah," Aiden muttered, "help hand 'em a bullet in the head…"

"Less sarcasm, Aiden, it does not suit you."

Aiden replied with a sneer.

Less than an hour after Elias and his cronies had left, Aiden emerged from his tent, clad in his cougar-fur coat and placing his pa's dark hat atop his head. He held his Lancaster repeater in one hand as he walked across to Ryder. He slung the rifle over his shoulder and stroked Ryder's neck with a faint smile. "I'll miss you, boy."

"You're always going away," a girl said from behind Aiden. He turned around to see Charlotte there, Her hair woven into plaits and resting on her dainty shoulder. "You and Rune and Luca…"

Aiden bit his lip, looking at Ryder for a moment. It hurt him to leave Ryder on his own – more than it felt to leave Charlie there on her own, with only chores around the camp for past-times.

"Y'know, Ryder here needs to run a lot…" He said, his hand washing across the sheet of gold on Ryder's neck. "Ain't fond of being cooped up for too long." He took Ryder's reins and held them out to Charlotte.

"Really?" Charlotte asked, her face lighting up.

"So long as you treat him right – feed him, brush him…"

"I will, I will!"

"And never take him out alone, you hear? Take Luca or Lana with ya…"

"I will, I promise!"

Aiden grinned and let go of the reins, letting Charlotte hold them. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and patted her on the back of the head. "Alright, enough of that…" Aiden straightened up. "Go on, get him something to eat 'fore he bolts and finds it himself…"

Charlotte led the Turkoman towards the other horses, who all grazed on the bales of hay. As Ryder ambled away, Lana was revealed to be approaching, Enzo on her hip. "Have we found someone you _don't_ hate?"

"Oh, I hate everyone Lana…" Aiden replied with a slight smile. "But… well, I hate her a lil' less."

Lana smiled. "You're getting sentimental in your old age."

"Shut up…" Aiden grunted, looking to see Enzo staring at him with wide brown eyes. "Want something?"

"Just to say thank you," Lana said. "Enzo wanted to say thank you too."

"He can't speak."

Lana cocked her head to the side. "Really, Aiden?" He rolled his eyes. "I'm just sayin'… Luca told me you wanted him here and not with you so… thank you."

"You don't need to thank me. He's a lousy shot and… well, he's got a kid now. It matters if he gets shot down."

"It matters if _any_ of you get shot down," Lana paused. "Well, maybe not Jay."

Aiden chuckled. "Not in the same way."

Lana took a step forward and gave Aiden a small kiss on the cheek. "Thank you, Aiden."

"I said you don't-"

"Oh, stop actin' all rough and tough – I know you've got a heart somewhere inside you."

"You don't know nothing…" Aiden scoffed before walking towards the wagon.

**I didn't really have a plan on how to end this so… there.**

**Yeah – I'm pretty happy with this chapter – nothing like a good ol' cop briefing. Hope you all enjoyed and I'll try to update before next week!**

**R.**


	5. What Makes Us Good

**So, bit of a while since I've updated. But, here's a new chapter. Not that long, but I thought you guys would like it – especially since ol' Eli hasn't really had much 'screentime' since his intro.**

**Yeah, I've got a lil' job at a pub to get me some spending money but here's a bit of info for y'all. As you all know, I've recently finished my second degree in Creative Writing. But, what you don't yet know is that I'm applying to do it at a PhD level. So I'm spending a lot of my free time preparing an application – hence the slower updates.**

**But, don't you worry, I'm doing my best to keep updating this. Wi-fi is still an issue for me.**

_Church of the Holy Blessed Virgin, Saint Denis, LE_

_15__th__ September, 1905_

Charlotte slowly walked around the interior of the Church. How could anything like this ever be built? Sure, she'd seen the Saint Denis Bank, with was something of a marvel (as were most buildings in that area of Saint Denis), but the church itself was different. Tall and ancient, proud and unlike anything else.

"Are all churches like this?" Charlotte asked Elijah.

"Some." Elijah nodded. "This is more commonly found around Europe. Britain, Germany, Spain-"

"France?" Charlotte asked.

Elijah nodded for a moment. "France, of course, yes."

Charlotte felt herself… drop. Not physically – it was as if her heart had sunk into her stomach. She remembered the soothing words of a scarlet-headed beauty. She dawdled around the stone slabs of the floor some more, her eyes roaming over the carved figure pinned to the cross. She didn't want to, but her brain began to roam back over the years to the hushed conversations she heard with closed eyes.

"You're thinking about Miss Aveline?" Father Elijah asked. Charlotte tucked a few strands of her blonde hair behind her ear and turned back to look at Elijah and give him a nod. Father Elijah strolled forwards, his hands clasped behind his back. "Do you remember her much?" Charlotte shrugged in response. "She was fond of you, you know?"

Charlotte nodded. "I know." She let out a sigh. "I just…"

"It's alright to not know how you feel," Elijah told her. "Emotions are something we can't control."

Charlotte looked at the cross again. She'd heard about heaven, of course – who hadn't? But a thought creeped into her mind. "It's a sin to whore, isn't it?"

I…" Elijah cleared his throat, a little shocked. "Yes. Yes, it is…"

"So, Ava's in Hell?"

"Well, I don't-"

"What about Matty? Killing's a sin."

"Yes, but…" Elijah spluttered. "It's not quite as simple as that."

"Isn't it?"

"I…" Elijah rubbed his eye. "I used to think it was," he confessed. "I believed it with my heart, but…" He shook his head. "Charlotte, all religions have a similar structure. A deity whom wants for us to be good and rewards us for it in a way we can't quite fathom." Charlotte looked unimpressed with this. Elijah leant down. "I won't pretend to know everything about… God, but… I do know that if someone is good, they'll be rewarded by whichever God exists."

Charlotte frowned. "So how do you know what's good?"

Elijah opened his mouth and closed it again. "You just… know. You know and that's what makes you a good person – like Miss Aveline."

Charlotte looked back at the cross. "Then why did she die so badly?"

Elijah breathed in deeply – he hadn't answered questions like these for a long time. "I… I suppose that… God tests us. _That_ is what makes us good."

"Bad things make people good?"

Elijah glanced around at the people filing into the Church. "Come. We'll attend mass another day."

Charlotte nodded and held Elijah's hand as he led her outside.

* * *

The wagon rumbled on through the plains of New Hanover, creaking as it rolled downhill and through the wet mud. The air was still moist from rain that morning. Driving the wagon, reins in hand, was Aiden, his brown hat set upon his head as he rubbed his tired hazel eyes.

Beside him, with a double-barrelled shotgun resting across his lap, was Jay. He was bored and restless, constantly fidgeting and s quirming in attempts to get comfortable. He never did like sitting on a wagon – at least horses had comfortable saddles…

Alice rode on ahead, next to Lil' Sam. She steered her horse, Birdie, close to him, and began pestering him. "You ever fucked someone?" She asked, cocking her head to the side? "A woman, a fella, a sheep…?"

"No- no, of course not!"

"No, you haven't fucked a woman?"

"A sheep," Sam replied curtly.

"So, you _have_ fucked a woman?"

Sam looked over his should to Aiden and Jay. "Can you tell her to stop?"

"I ain't Rune," Aiden said loudly, "I ain't gonna coddle you."

Sam turned away and cantered forwards, muttering darkly to himself. Jay glanced from Aiden to Sam before rubbing his jaw. "What's your problem with Lil' Sam?" He asked.

"You wouldn't understand it." Aiden glanced over to Jay. "Y'know, it ain't too late – you can still head back…"

"And leave you with her?" Jay scoffed. "One of you ain't comin' back that way…" Jay rested the shotgun behind his neck, stretching his shoulders against it. "Besides, I pull my weight, sour-face. Unlike _abuela_and the _Padre_…"

"First off, they've been here a lot longer than you," Aiden replied firmly, "so you best start mindin' your mouth."

"I'm just sayin' what's on my mind; what's the point if they can't pull their weight? See, I used to run with the Del Lobos and they-"

"Yeah, you ran with them and now you don't, so what's that say?"

Jay raised an eyebrow and tipped the brim of his hat back from his eyes. "Rune says we're all equal. So, how's come they do less work and still eat the same share?"

"Because they do _other_ work – I don't see you darning no socks…"

"That's 'cos I've been busy doing _real_ work. I've been scouting."

"Scouting what? A nice lil' lady to kill?"

"She touched my guns," Jay said simply.

"And you didn't have much trouble gettin' 'em back."

"I don't got many rules, _hermano_, but when I say no-one touches my guns, _no-one_ touches my guns." Aiden shook his head, muttering under his breath. "'Sides, from how MacKenzie talks about it, you're the same way over that watch of yours…" Jay reached out to pick at the steel pocket watch that poked out of Aiden's blue-paisley vest pocket. Aiden's arm spun out and he smacked Jay in the nose. "_Puta madre…_"

"Don't touch it," Aiden said.

"Who hits me in the _nose_?"

"I barely touched ya."

"This is what I'm talking about," Jay said, "ain't no difference."

"Difference is I ain't never killed some fool 'cos of it."

"Oh… oh, okay McKneil. I'll be more like you then, shall I? I'll be all… gruff and tough and…" Jay shook his head and let out a frustrated groaning, rubbing his wrists into his forehead. "Okay, I'm sorry, 'kay? Truth is, I… I respect you, _hermano_. I've always looked up to you, since the first day I met you…"

"Then you're either a liar or a fool."

"I dunno… see, way Rune talks 'bout it, you were a _real_ tough _bandito_. See, back in the Del Lobo's, folk were all 'I shot this lawman in the back…' Then I come over here and first thing folk're sayin' is 'did ya hear about when Aiden beat Titus of the Brotherhood to death?'"

"You don't know what you're talkin' 'bout."

"Point is I know who I've gotta impress." Aiden rolled his eyes as Jay continued on, "Young Sam must've done something to live up to that."

"Whatever," Aiden spat the words as his eyes glanced over to the boy in the front.

Jay leant his elbows on his knees. "You ever think about striking out on your own?"

Aiden sighed, long tired of Jay's fondness for talking incessantly. "No."

"Well, I'd come with ya, _hermano_. We'd rob fools from Annesburg to Armadillo, holding up trains and banks – be as rich as God."

"If you think this is just about money, you ain't been paying attention."

"I do enough."

Aiden raised an eyebrow. "You're thinkin' 'bout splitting?"

"I'm asking why _you_'_re_ not." Jay shrugged. "They treat you like shit, _hermano_ – have you running errands each and every day and act like 'thank you' is payment enough." Jay gave a slight chuckle. "No-one treats _Jay Gonzalez_ like that. I can granulate that."

Aiden blinked and frowned, turning to look at Jay with a furrowed brow. "Granu… tee, it's guarantee, guaran_tee_…" Aiden shook his head. "Saddled with a goddamn fool…"

"You didn't answer my question."

"There was a question there?"

"Why are you still stickin' with 'em?"

Aiden shook his head. "Tell ya what, you split first and I'll be right behind ya, how 'bout that? Don't even bother checkin', just trust that I'm there."

Jay shook his head and leant back into his seat, popping open his carton and placing a cigarette in his mouth.

* * *

Charlotte was walking down the street, trailing after Father Elijah down the fog-filled street. It smelt awful… like shit. One-armed beggars and vagrants littered an alleyway to the north, and people walked just _so_ close to her.

It only took a second for someone to bump into her, where she felt a large, rough hand stroke across her ass, squeezing hard. She turned around wildly to see two grime-covered boys, only a few years older than her, rushing off down the street. She called out to them and gave chase.

"I'll gut the pair of yous!" Charlotte yelled as the boys guffawed loudly. One stopped abruptly, grabbing his partner and pulling him down a narrow alleyway.

"Charlotte!" Father Elijah shouted from afar. Charlotte didn't think twice – she ducked down into the alleyway after the two boys, jumping over the legs of Chinamen and veterans, crouching down and muddying and tearing her dress to pass under the crates and holes in the fences.

Finally, she came to a large clearing – a courtyard. Basked in sunlight that drowned in the fog, Charlotte dawdled forwards, looking for the two boys. She would've seen them leave – they had to be around there somewhere…

"You ain't from 'round here are ya?"

Charlotte turned around to see the two boys walking from another alleyway, one of them holding a short, serrated knife.

"Yous are a pair of bastards," Charlotte growled.

"And y'all're all alone," the knifeman said as he walked closer. "Got any cash?" Charlotte took a step backwards. "What's wrong, girlie, you nervous?" He scoffed. "That's alright, we're real friendly types…"

"I ain't scared of you," Charlotte replied, trying her best to sound firm, "I've seen worse than you before."

The two boys laughed. "Sure ya have…" the knifeman pointed his weapon at her. "Strip."

"Excuse me?"

"Ya dress."

Charlotte took another step back, her shoulders hitting the greasy wall behind her. A figure came at the end of the alleyway behind the two boys. A tall figure, dressed in black.

"You don't have to do this," Elijah's voice echoed down the alleyway. "I don't know you two boys…" he walked closer, his patch-work preacher's garb showing in the sunlight. "But I promise you, it ain't too late."

"Who's this, ya daddy?" The other boy laughed. "You got any money, priest?"

"'Course he ain't, Danny, look at him!"

"One last chance," Elijah said, holding his Bible close, "leave her alone, walk the other way. Please."

"'Please'? What, ya… ya begging? You askin' for mercy, priest?" The other boy chuckled. The knifeman raised the blade and walked towards Elijah, quickening his pace. In a flash, the boy was on the floor, holding his bloody, broken nose as Elijah calmly flexed his hand, his knuckles covered in the boy's blood. "Danny! Danny, get 'im!"

The other boy scrambled for the knife, but as he came face-to-face with Elijah, he found a revolver set on his forehead. "I wasn't begging for mercy," Elijah said calmly, "I was offering." The boy dropped the knife, shaking, as Elijah looked to Charlotte. "You okay?" Charlotte nodded. Here he was, the man who'd always told her violence should be avoided, that no-one was beyond redemption… here he was, blood on his hand as he pointed a gun at a young boy's face.

"Please, priest…" the boy stuttered, "we was just playin'."

Elijah's thumb rested on the cocked hammer, pushing the barrel into the boy's forehead, contemplating on whether or not to take a life. "I remember being your age," Elijah said quietly. "I used to have so much forgiveness in me. So much mercy." He clicked the hammer of his revolver forwards. "Go."

The boy began to scamper away before Elijah let out a sharp whistle. The boy stopped, turning around slowly. "Yessir?"

"Forgetting something?"

The boy turned to Charlotte. "S-sorry, ma'am."

"Very chivalrous, but not what I was referring to." Elijah gestured to the bloody-nosed boy on the floor. Danny picked him up and carried him away through the alleyways. Elijah walked towards Charlotte, placing the revolver back into his Bible. "Never run off again."


	6. No Chance for Goodbyes

**So, I know you all wanted to see more of the gang, but I don't really have much planned, so I'm gonna focus on the Shine Run for today. **

**Also, just a general PA – I understand people put time and effort into their characters, and sometimes my portrayal might not live up to their ideas – I get that, I've been there and it always sucks. BUT I have a plan for how these characters develop. And, I think I can say that without a shadow of a doubt, I've spent far more time on the overall story and arcs than on anything else lately so just know that I know that I know how you want your characters portrayed, and I'm planning to meet those expectations. Maybe not exactly how you think, but a little bit anyway.**

**Okay, PA over, time for another chapter.**

_Great Plains, NH_

_17__th__ September, 1905_

Sam was kicking the embers and charcoal, stamping out the campfire. He was never given the miniscule tasks growing up – he never had to pack down tents, kill the fire or feed the horses. Most of the time, he just rode on the wagon with Rune and kept watch. But Rune wasn't there – it was resoundingly clear that Aiden was in charge, and Sam loathed that idea. Sam wasn't particularly fond of Jay or Alice either, but neither of them seemed to have a deep, intense dislike like McKneil.

On the wagon, Jay lay on the crates of moonshine, smoking a cigarette and watching the clouds as Aiden secured the reins on the horses.

"So, _hermano_, what happens when Rune dies?"

Aiden looked up at Jay, crossing his arms. "What?"

"Well, how do we figure out who's in charge? Do we have a… gunfight or…?"

Aiden rolled his eyes. "If Rune goes, Near's in charge. Or Luca or-"

"You?"

Aiden climbed up onto the wagon and took the cigarette from Jay's lips, throwing it onto the ground. "Get off the damn moonshine…"

"Sorry, sour-face," Alice said loudly as she mounted her stallion, Birdie, "I coulda sworn you said you'd be in charge _after_ Rune goes?"

"Sour-face," Jay snickered, sitting up-right and climbing into the front seat, "I like this name."

"Besides, Daddy ain't gonna die…" Alice explained to Jay, "not with _that_ protectin' him…" She pointed at Aiden.

"Yeah, well, _this_…" Aiden slapped Alice's hand away from him, "ain't gonna do a damn thing to protect you."

"He _guarantees_," Jay said loudly and looked over to Sam. "So, what do you think, _ni__ñ__o_?"

"About…?" Sam asked slowly as he loaded the tents into the back of the wagon, on top of the crates of moonshine.

"All this- Valentine, Strawberry, Harper, moonshine…"

Sam shrugged. "I suppose it's a… good way to make some money?"  
"But not the best! We need to rob a bank… or another train?" He looked to Aiden.

"Ain't much money in killin' women…"

"Oh, _dios mio_, are you still on that? C'mon – what do you think?"

Aiden shrugged. "You know me, I don't do much thinking."

"We know," Alice said loudly. Sam cracked a smile and the gang set off towards the town in the distance.

* * *

"Been a while, hasn't it, McKneil?" Alice asked as the wagon rolled forwards through the muddy roads of Valentine. The place stank of shit, just as it had three years before. Dirty-clothed cowboys and a handful of women. The only difference was a new building opposite the stables.

As the wagon rolled along down the main road, Jay's eyes fell on a crate being carried into the saloon – a crate full of black bottles carried in through the back? Jay couldn't help but wonder…

"Why d'you reckon they're loading in the back?" Jay murmured.

"Because that's what saloons _do_?" Aiden replied.

"Or they've got a drink that ain't quite legal…"

Aiden raised an eyebrow. "You think?"

"You want to risk it?" Jay asked.

Aiden bit his lip, looking back over to the saloon. "Alright, go and follow him…" Aiden grabbed Jay's arm. "_Quietly_. We don't want no trouble here."

"Relax, _hermano_. I've got this…" Jay hopped off the wagon and stumbled as he landed, before walking down the small alley between the buildings and pulling out a carton of cigarettes, lighting one up as he waited.

Finally, the man left, carrying an empty crate. Jay pushed his hat down to cover his face and dawdled forwards after the man, who led the way to a small house by the church. The man Jay stalked walked into the house and closed the door behind him. Jay grinned and tossed his cigarette to the floor, then walked up to the house, banging his fist on it.

"Who's there?"

"From the saloon," Jay said loudly, "waitin' for the rest of that moonshine!"

"Jesus, keep your goddamn voice down!" The locked clicked and the door began to open. "We're getting it now, just keep your-"

Jay unsheathed his black hunting knife and stuck it into the man's throat. Blood slipped down through the gold baroque engravings and over the walnut hilt. The other young man in the house cursed and fell over a chair as he friend fell to the floor, transformed into a corpse by Jay's hunting knife.

Leaping across the room, Jay went to punch the man in the face. He missed and collided with the wall. The other man grabbed Jay by the throat and threw a fist into his stomach. "You killed my goddamn cousin-"

The man screamed in agony as Jay plunged his knife into the man's thigh and pushed him onto the floor, holding his knife with both hands and burying it deep into the stranger's wrist, pushing all his weight onto it until the metal hilt was pressed to his skin.

The floor creaked as Jay fell back onto it, rising to his feet and brushing the long brown strands of hair from his face. He wiped the sweat from his brow and began to walk around the room. He opened a door to a bedroom and found the window covered with wooden panels – a shoddy make-shift still was erected in the room with a tin bathtub.

"We don't believe in friendly competition," Jay said as he walked back to the man as he pulled out another cigarette. "It's erm… what's the…" Jay tapped his chin in thought. "Like a tick… a flay a…" He lit the cigarette and breathed out a cloud of smoke in thought. "Never mind." Jay flicked his cigarette across the room, into the bathtub of shine. Jay walked over to the man and wrenched his knife from his wrist before stabbing him in the gut with it. He twisted the knife and pulled it out, leaving the man writhing in pain as he picked up a rag from the table and wiped his knife down, examining the flames that begun to consume the house.

"Nuisance…" Jay groaned to himself. "That's the one…"

* * *

In Smithfield's saloon, the barman drummed his fingers on the bar, biting his lip as his eyes fixed on the door. He was bald, young and had a thick black moustache on his lip. Over at the bar, Sam drank a bottle of beer, his cheeks burning bright red as the women on the stairs eyed him curiously.

One of them, a girl only a handful of years older than himself, approached, leaning on the bar as her deep brown eyes settled on his. "Where're you from?"

"I'm…" Sam cleared his throat. "Rhodes."

"That's far away…" She said with a smile. "Many girls down that way?"

"A fair few."

"Not like me, I'd reckon." She offered a hand, which Sam shook. "Clara."

"Sam."

"So, what're you doing over this way?"

"Bit of business," Sam nodded to Aiden and Alice, who sat down at a table with the owner of the saloon. "You seen them before?"

"Maybe."

"They came through here a couple years back."

Clara shook her head. "I only been here a year or so."

Sam nodded and put another dollar on the table, getting two bottles. He handed one to Clara, who cocked her head to the side curiously. "That for me?"

"Don't you like it?"  
Clara smiled. "You're sweet." She took the bottle and had a gulp, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand. "How old are you?"

"Seventeen."

"Bless ya…" Clara stroked Sam's face. "You look older." Sam shrugged in response. "You been with a woman yet?"

Sam shrugged. "Yeah, 'course."

Clara smiled knowingly. "Sure you have, stupid of me to ask." She sighed. "I woulda done it for free otherwise… a helpin' hand."

Sam's mouth fell open – she had beautiful black hair, deep brown eyes and her body was… well, he didn't know words for it. But it was really because she was nice and kind. He couldn't remember the last conversation he'd had with someone about anything other than money, killing, the law or killing the law for money.

"I didn't-"

"Relax, sweetie, I know." She took Sam by the hand and began to lead him up the stairs.

* * *

The staircase creaked as Aiden glanced over to see Lil' Sam being led away by a whore. Trust the goddamn kid to go sloping off…

"Am I boring you, sir?"

Aiden glanced back to the owner of the saloon. "Yes." He flexed his shoulders. "Fact is, mister, that you ain't got no other supplier."

"That's what I've been-"

"No, I'm telling you that from now on you ain't got no other supplier. I know where they are, and if you refuse to honour your deal with Mr. Harper, I'll put them outta business and _take_ the money from you."

The men growled at Aiden. "You think you can come in here and do as you like, do ya? Take what you please, kill who you please?"

Aiden opened his tin of tobacco and removed a pre-rolled cigarette. "Only with folk who feel like they can break agreements. Truth is, I don't much care who the hell supplies you. But you promised to pay Elias Harper. So we're taking that money." Aiden leant back in the chair. "It's up to you whether we leave you the shine or not."

The man's jaw clenched. "You're making an enemy, boy."

"I've got far worse than you," Aiden replied cavalierly, "now go and get us the money. " The man rose to his feet, hands balled into fists as he walked away to one of the back rooms. Aiden looked to Alice, who drank a bottle of shine. "Go with him."

Alice rose to her feet, still drinking from her bottle, as she followed the man away. Aiden let out a long sigh and poured himself a glass of whiskey, rubbing his eye. He'd found himself wishing the man had done something with his fists. There was always that urge inside Aiden – the urge to smash the entire place to pieces.

"You drinkin' all alone?" Came the soft southern twang of a woman as she slipped an arm around Aiden's neck and rubbed his chest.

"I _was_."

She sat down next to him, placing a glass on table and pouring herself a drink. She was blonde, with a heavy scar around her cheek as her blue eyes roved over Aiden. "You lookin' for somethin' extra?"

Aiden shook his head. "No, I ain't."

"Ooh, my. Well, are you a gentlemen or earnest?"

"Earnest?" Aiden frowned.

"Y'know, like… likin' boys."

Aiden chuckled. "Is _that_ what that means now…" he muttered before giving a shrug. "Maybe I'm married."

"Are ya?"

Aiden ginned again. "No, I ain't."

"Well, I can see you ain't no gentleman."

Aiden picked at his stubble. "I just don't plan on stayin' here long."

"What about your friend?"

Aiden looked up at the floor above and shrugged. "I just…" He looked out of the window. "I dunno."  
"Ah, you're a soft heart turned hard," she poured herself another glass.

"If you like."

"I'm Elise."

"Aiden. You French?"

"If you want me to be. Got a thing for French women?" Aiden shook his head, turning quiet. "That's a sensitive topic, I take it? Is she the one that spurned you?"

Aiden shook his head. "Ain't no use talkin' 'bout it now." He paused, then quickly knocked back a glass of whiskey and poured himself another.

"Well, there's a woman that's got you drinking, that's for sure."

"Reckon she's past caring anyhow…"

"If that's the case…" She raised an eyebrow and smirked.

"I thought y'all weren't so forward with this." Aiden crossed his arms.

"You've seen the scar," she said, "if I spent all my time giggling and smiling like the others, I wouldn't get nothing."

Aiden nodded, turning over the thought in his mind. He opened his mouth to respond, but the door opened and a man walked in – a young man. Dark-haired with uneven stubbled peppering his jaw. He was slight, his hair roughly parted. He wore a striped blue jacket, his jaw falling as his eyes settled on Aiden.

"You," the man said. Aiden remembered the figure from somewhere… he was familiar. He turned around and sprinted out of the saloon.

"You gonna go kill him?" Elisa asked.

"Who was that?"

"Some kid that lives 'round here… works with the livestock, but then again, who doesn't, right?" She chortled.

The batwing doors opened and Jay entered, the sleeves of his black work-shirt rolled up to his elbows. His black jeans were tattered and patched at the knees, and his black stalker hat (pinned with a blue Jay feather) sat low on his brow.

"Who's the black spic?" Elisa frowned.

"Another headache…" Aiden murmured, rising to his feet and walking towards Jay. "How'd it go?"

"They ain't cookin' up no moonshine again…" Jay sat down at the table. "Who's the- urgh…" he caught sight of the scar.

"See what I mean?" Elisa shrugged to Aiden.

"What do you mean, Jay?"

"I mean, look at her-"

"Shut up. What do you mean they ain't cookin' no more?"

Jay shrugged. "There was a problem, I fixed it…" He raised a hand. "Don't worry, ain't no-one going to think it was us."

Aiden turned to see people rushing by the window. Folk were shouting and screaming, mounting horses and galloping. "Christ's sake…" Aiden muttered, reaching into his pocket and pulling out two crumpled bills. "Go upstairs and get Sam."

Elisa took the money and her eyes grew wide. "Like, you want to watch?"

"No, get the boy and bring him down here, we're leaving."

Elisa opened her mouth and decided against questioning it. She stood up and made her way up the stairs. Aiden grabbed his cougar-fur coat and pulled it on, then pushed Jay towards the door Alice had gone through. "Get Alice, get the money. We're leaving."

"But I-"

"It's best you don't say another word right now, Jay."

Aiden drew his revolver and began to check the cylinder was full of bullets. Seeing that it was, he holstered it once again, but before he could check his black-hilted Packenbush, the batwing doors opened again and the young man entered, followed by four burly-looking men covered in muddied overalls.

"That's him. That's the bastard," the man pointed at Aiden.

"I know you?" Aiden frowned.

The man shook his head. "You don't even remember me…" he scoffed. "You killed my daddy."

"They don't exactly narrow it down, kid."

"Peyton Morris," the man said loudly. "You remember him now?"

Aiden nodded slowly. "Jim, right?" Aiden shook his head. "Look, kid, your pa was robbin' folk. Ain't my fault how that all ended and while I'm real sorry 'bout it…"

"'You've mistaken me for someone who cares'." Jim Morris said loudly. "That's what you said to me after killin' my daddy." Alice and Jay walked back into the saloon. They saw the men in front of Aiden and came to his side, Jay resting his hand on one of his blue Schofield revolvers. "And you!" Jim pointed at Alice. "You got a whole lotta nerve comin' back here."

"Ain't y'all got a way with folk?" Jay murmured.

"Do I know you?" Alice asked the kid.

"This man killed my daddy!"

"He did- you did?" Alice looked to Aiden.

"I barely touched him," Aiden insisted.

"My daddy had problems before," Jim stated. "Cornwall thugs beat him to an inch of his life. He'd…" Jim shook his head. "One more beating was all it took."

There was a pause as the air hung heavy in that saloon. Jay's fingers crept around the carved puma on the pearl hilt. Folk screamed outside – if only they knew how much worse things were about to turn.

Alice shook her head. "How do I not remember this?"

One of the men went for his gun and Jay fired first, hitting the man in the mouth and sending him falling backwards through the batwing doors. Jim tried to draw his revolver, but Aiden threw a bottle of shine at him, hitting him in the ear. Alice took out her knife and pounced on one of the bigger men, stabbing him over and over and over again in the shoulder as she wrapped her legs around him, yelling madly.

* * *

Sam stumbled down the stairs, buckling his gunbelt as he saw the brawl unfurling on the floor. He slowly came to a halt, watching Alice carve a man like a flank of meat. He saw Aiden slam a man's face into the metal pipe in the centre of the room and cast him across the room. "Fix us a drink if ya ain't gonna help-"

Sam ran across the room and grabbed a bottle, hitting the man on the floor over the head. He looked up to see another man charge him and knock him to the ground. He hit the ground hard, his head spinning as the man raised a meaty fist. Before it could fall on Sam, an arm wrapped around the man's neck.

"Sorry, friend…" Aiden's voice was heard as the man was pulled backwards and stumbled across the room, Aiden standing in front of him with raised fists. As the man began to approach, a flash of blue streaked across from the stairs, and Elisa landed a strike on the man's nose. He swayed for a second and Aiden charged, taking the man to the ground and holding him by the shirt, punching him in the face.

Sam looked across to see Jay on the floor, Jim Morris and one of his cronies kicking him hard in the stomach. Sam grabbed the back of a chair and, summoning all of his strength, hucked it across the room, hitting Jim, who fell into the corner of the room. The other brute stepped away, now focused on Sam. He went to run, but Jay clutched onto the man's ankle, pulling and rendering the man to the ground. Sam took advantage, coming closer to kick the man in the face. Jay rose to his feet, swiftly landing a kick between the man's legs and stomping on his back, hurling Spanish insults and spitting on the man.

Over in the corner, Aiden had all but beaten the man into oblivion. On the other side of the room, Alice had scarred the man's face. Sam didn't know if he was dead or not, but he soon would be.

Jim rose to his feet, his hand going for his revolver. Jay let out a loud whistle. "Don't be a _pendejo_, boy." Jim licked his lips, looking between Jay and Sam, weighing up the options in his head. The chances of it all. "One warning, boy…" Jay's hand rose to his revolver. In a second, one shot was fired. Jim was holding his revolver, barely pulled from its holster. Jay's revolver was smoking – he'd drawn and fired with one hand from the hip. Jim fell to the floor, clutching his throat, his legs spasming.

"What the hell?" Aiden stormed across the room and shoved Jay out of the way, watching Jim die. "The hell did you do?"

"He drew. Lil' Sam saw, I didn't have no-"

Aiden's hazel eyes roved around the wound in Jim's neck. It didn't take many seconds before he died. Aiden hung his head, breathing deeply. "Shit…" he murmured.

"This weren't my fault, _hermano_…"

"You shut your damn mouth, Jay…" Aiden growled. "The hell did you do up there?"

"You wanted me to put them outta business-"

"What did you _do_?"

Jay shrugged. "Burnt it down."

Aiden groaned. "Christ…"

"You told me to-"

"I told you to _follow_ him."

"And do what?"

"I told you to be quiet, I told you we didn't want no trouble." Jay let out a small laugh. "You're a creep…"

"_Hermano_, I did this for the gang…"

"Yeah, you tell yourself that."

"How come you kill the daddy and it ain't your fault, but I shoot the son and suddenly I'm a creep?"

"He's a point…" Alice said, pushing her red hair back from her face as she wiped her knife down on the barman's rag.

"No, wait, don't tell me…" Jay raised a hand. "It'll be alright so long as I feel bad 'bout killing him, is that it?" Aiden stayed quiet. "_Puta madre_, that's it. You feel-"

Aiden shoved Jay back. "I don't give a damn 'bout these fools. But you've gone causing trouble – leaving a trail for folk to find us! It's taken us three years to disappear after that shitstorm in Rhodes, and now you're stirring it up again."

"_Hermano_, it's not like-"

"I'm not your goddamn _hermano_!" Aiden shook his head and pushed Jay towards the back. "C'mon, we need to get outta here 'fore law comes here."

Sam paused, looking up the stairs to see Clara there. She was dressed in her underdress and corset, brow furrowed in worry as Sam stood surrounded by bodies. He opened his mouth, but… what could he say to her?

"Sam!" Aiden called.

"Just give me a second…"

Aiden walked over to Sam and grabbed him by the shoulder, pushing him out. "Sorry, Sam, no chance for goodbyes."

**So, I feel like there's more I wanted to write but it's escaped me. I wrote this in about an hour and a half so there may be typos, but I just wanted to get this up because it's been a while since I updated.**

**I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. Since Jay and Sam are the newest peeps (aside from baby Enzo), I wanted to give them a bit more of the limelight. **

**Again, please review and stuff. Feel free to ask questions – I mean, someone mentioned if Aiden really killed Peyton Morris because he didn't really beat him badly and the only reason I didn't answer it was because this chapter does.**


	7. Ash and Charcoal

**It's been a while, guys! I haven't updated because I misplaced my charger. All clear on that virus… Christ, that came out of nowhere.**

**The upside is that if lockdown happens in London, count on regular updates for this!**

**Also, we're halfway through this instalment, which I wrote purely because I'm not ready to let go of this series and want to get as much as I can out of it. BUT, that being said, I've decided that I may create another story full of random one-shots. I.E. how Night's Hawk joined the gang, Abuela Paloma and Near Simmons chatting – deleted scenes, basically. I have no idea WHEN I'd do that, but when this series inevitably ends - we'll still have random bits of new content.**

**Anyway, on with this fairly short chapter.**

_Roanoke Ridge, NH_

_19__th__ September, 1905_

Anna was rage incarnate. Thought, speech – it had all evaporated from her body like smoke into air as soon as the man's hand closed around her throat. She was back in that moment, watching her father's twisted body lying on the floor beside her brothers as greasy hands clawed into her hips.

She brought down the machete upon the man's brow, cleaving it in two. She tugged it free and brought it down upon him again, spouting a jet of blood across her pale skin. She grunted as she wrenched the blade free and slammed it down into the gash in the man's brown face again and again and again.

"Anna!"

Near's dark hands clasped her shoulders, his old, thick arms wrapping around her chest and pulling her back as she frantically flailed her arms, kicking and thrashing like a hooked fish – she needed her blade.

"Let me go-"

"Anna, _calm_!" Near pushed her across the room, holding his hands up and facing his palms to her. "He's dead, it's okay." Anna panted, looking at the remains of the corpse. She let out a pant and pushed her dark blonde hair from her sweat-stained face. "What's going on with ya, Anna?"

"Nothing, I'm fine-"

"No, you ain't- _that_ ain't fine." Near pointed to the corpse. Anna clenched her jaw. It slowly dawned on her then – she didn't feel anything looking at the body. The blood soaking into the mud and seeping into the riverbed. Anna didn't feel shame or disgust or anything a 'civilized' person would feel. She didn't have any feelings left – none except rage.

"_That_ is what we do. Not you, of course…" Anna walked towards Near. "You're always too busy lettin' them go, aren't ya?" Anna scoffed as she walked back towards their horses.

"Anna…" Near limped after her. "They weren't no threat."

"He tried to strangle me-"

"After you decided to rob him of all he owns." Near put a hand on the saddle of Anna's black Turkoman, Alexi. "That ain't you, woman."

Anna smacked Near's hand from her saddle. "You ain't got no idea of who I am." She led Alexi over to the corpse and drew her machete from the fragmented skull, wiping down the blade on the man's coat-sleeve.

"You're lost, Anna," Near said slowly, his one good eye focusing on her. Anna scoffed in response and mounted Alexi, trotting away to the camp and leaving Near to find his own way. "You're so goddamn lost…"

* * *

Agent Buck Bayfield lifted the coat with the nib of his pen, examining the gunshot wound in the young man's stomach. He couldn't have been older than twenty – already shot dead.

"What a waste…" Bayfield murmured to himself, straightening up. He looked over to see the taller agent, Martin Finch, approach. "Any luck?"

"Nothing but ash and charcoal," Finch responded, looking over his shoulder to the burnt remains of the house. "I'd wager they used moonshine to burn the place down."

"That or kerosene…" Bayfield nodded. They left the pine caskets and walked across the muddied street towards Smithfield's saloon.

Finch glanced over to the Sheriff's office. "You're not interested in talking to the Sheriff?"

"I doubt he's noted anything of interest…" Bayfield responded. "It's his town – he'll likely insist on hunting them down himself and killing each of them."

"So?"  
"So, I'd like to avoid more pointless death."

"Buck Bayfield, patron saint of outlaws…" Finch scoffed.

"I'm doing my job, Agent Finch. Perhaps you should do yours by assisting me."

Finch clenched his jaw and let out a sharp breath. "Of course, sir."

Smithfield's saloon was the same as any other Bayfield and Finch had visited in pursuit of outlaws. Full of rough types and cowboys. Most of the patrons turned away, hiding their faces shortly after clapping weary, glassy eyes on their silver badges.

"Agents Bayfield and Finch of the Pinkerton Detective Agency," Bayfield announced himself, "I'm here to speak to the proprietor?"

No-one took any notice of Bayfield's words.

"Well, that's helpful…" Finch muttered.

Bayfield walked towards the barman and removed his derby hat, placing it on the bar. "You own the place?"

"No, Smithfield does," the barman responded. Another man at the bar snickered.

Bayfield flicked his tongue across his teeth. "Some outlaws came through here." Bayfield removed several 'Wanted' posters from his jacket. "I was hoping you might identify them…"

"Can't help you, sirs." The barman started wiping down whiskey glasses.

Bayfield hung his head and sighed. "Sir, you may want to _look_ at the pictures before lying to me."

The barman set down the glass and examined the posters before looking up at Bayfield. "Sorry, _sir_ – can't help you."

Finch's hand curled into a fist as he leant on the bar. "Look again…"

Bayfield put an arm in front of Finch's chest and spoke to the barman. "I understand how things work here. You all want revenge, and jail isn't enough. So, you'll form a posse with your Sheriff and hunt them down. But that doesn't work anymore. That's not how we do things – that'll end with half of you dead and _maybe_ you'll put a bullet in one of them. But…" Bayfield held out a hand. "If you assist me and my associate, I can _guarantee_ that they will face justice. It won't feel good… but your dead can rest." He handed the 'Wanted' posters over. "Please, sir?"

The barman sighed, glancing to the others before taking the posters and sorting through them. "Him… him… him and… her." He placed down the posters for Aiden McKneil, Jay Gonzales, Samuel Washington and Alice MacKenzie.

"Anyone else?"

"No-one that I saw."

"Why were they here?" The barman shrugged.

"Nothing to do with moonshine?" Finch raised an eyebrow. The barman's face froze. Bayfield knew that he was trying to construct a lie that would help without incriminating himself.

"We ain't the law, we ain't here for moonshiners," Bayfield assured the barman. "We're after the Rune Brody gang – that's all."

The barman nodded slowly. "Sellin' moonshine. Fella named Elias Harper in Lemoyne makes it. I don't know where."

"Thank you, sir." Bayfield smiled. "You've been a big help." He turned to Finch. "Send a telegram to Agent Winters and Jones to travel east and find-"

"Wait," the barman said loudly, muttering darkly to himself before facing the agents. "Strawberry. It's a dry town north of Blackwater."

"I know it…" Bayfield nodded.

"They had a lot more shine so… I reckon they'd be heading that-a way."

Bayfield smiled. "Thank you, sir." He turned to Finch. "Send the telegram to Jones and Winters – you and I are heading east."

* * *

The red can dented and crumpled inwards from the sheer force of a lead bullet that spun and twisted and tore through the tin with all the force and ferocity of a metal hurricane. Thirty yards away, crouching by a stone and resting the barrel of Aiden's caraco rifle upon it was Sam Washington. Aiden rubbed a hand across his stubble and cussed under his breath.

"Reckon you can hit it again?" Aiden asked. Sam closed one eye and peered into the scope again. "Remember to squeeze-" The gun cracked and the can spun up into the air. "Shit…" Aiden murmured – he'd never been that accurate with a gun at Sam's age. He handed him a cartridge of five bullets. "Now, load that in there…"

Sam turned the rifle upside down and jammed the cartridge in slowly and hard. Aiden took it from him and, in one swift movement, inserted the cartridge with a click. Sam peered through the scope again, looking at the other cans, but his finger paused on the trigger. "Can I ask you something?"

Aiden glanced over to Sam. "Well, you just did, so…"

Sam straightened up and leant on the end on the rifle. "Why don't you like me?"

"Well, maybe you're just…" Aiden paused to move the rifle from under Sam's hand. "Dislikeable?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Forget it…" He spied through the scope once again.

Aiden crossed his arms, watching the kid learn to shoot. Well, he wasn't learning – he was probably the best sharpshooter out of all of them. Seventeen… Aiden would've been a little younger than him when Rune taught him how to shoot.

"Y'know…" Aiden murmured, "it was always me and Rune. Since my pa died…" Aiden shrugged. "Felt like you was takin' part of that, I guess…"

Sam lowered the rifle and cradled it in his arms. "I didn't take you for the jealous type."

"Watch your mouth, boy."

Sam looked from Aiden's scowl to the tin cans and bit his lip. "Rune always tells me to… use my fire. Like you. Only… only it seems like you don't stop using it. Rune says-"

"Rune says a lotta things…" Aiden held up a hand. "Lemme tell ya, I've killed a whole lotta folk outta anger, and it ain't ever done me much good."

Sam narrowed his eyes. Everyone else seemed to either admire Rune or adore him. Aiden… he wasn't like the rest of them. He'd known Rune longer, but… "How long have you known Rune, exactly?"

Aiden puffed out his cheeks in thought. "Nigh on twenty years, I think?"

"Christ…" Sam muttered.

"Yeah… Christ indeed…" Aiden took the rifle from Sam and leant it on his shoulder, walking back to camp. "I ain't lyin' when I say he raised me. And I know he's a fool… and I'm an ever bigger fool but…" Aiden shrugged again. "Listen, I'm real proud to be his son." Aiden's hazel eyes locked on Sam's. "But Rune's… well… Rune's…" Aiden shook his head. "Things have changed. And Rune, well, he's still my pa – always will be, but…" Aiden sighed. "I'm just thinking."

"I thought you said you don't do much thinking?"

"Yeah, this is why…" Aiden handed Sam the rifle. "First watch is yours."

**So, a shorter chapter this time around. Hope you all enjoyed and I'll try and bust out another update within a day.**

**Anyway, please review and let me know what you think!**

**R.**


	8. Dead or Alive

**Fun fact, this chapter is set 99 years before my best friend's birthday. What a coinky-dink.**

**So, 5 more chapters after this. This is pretty much the mid-way point for the series. I mean, all things have got to end and I don't want this thing to end up jumping the shark… though, let's face it, I'd love to write lil' sit-com things, like Charlotte using Rune's knife and losing it and comes up with whacky shenanigans to try and find it…**

**Anyhoo, strange tangent over. Enjo!**

_Strawberry, WE_

_22__nd__ September, 1905_

A wet, muddy town. Similar to Valentine, but with a near-constant drizzle, Strawberry was averse to moonshine. One of the only dry states left in the South, Strawberry was a rickety wooden town and prided itself on civilization, decorum and good ol' fashioned, up-standing American morals. Whereas other towns boasted a saloon and cathouse, Strawberry only housed a hotel in the depths of the pinewood.

Walking down the only road away from the general store was Aiden, Jay and Alice, with the former pulling the leather satchel over his shoulder, his left hand resting on the rough leather – guarding it.

"Not like you, McKneil… usually more people are dead."

"Look who's talking…" Aiden replied.

Alice mockingly gasped. "Was that a joke, McKneil? I didn't know you could _joke_!"

"Shut up…"

"Hand on my heart, honest! I always assumed you'd end up biting your own tongue off!" Aiden rolled his eyes and walked on ahead, leaving Alice behind with Jay, who stared determinedly away from her. "C'mon, Jay, I thought you were a lil' less dour than sour-face."

Jay furrowed his brother. "I ain't dour."

"Aw…" Alice cooed, "do you even know what dour means?" She pinched his cheek, and Jay flapped her hand away. "It's okay, lil' _bandito_…"

The trio came closer to the wagon, where Sam began to straighten up and step towards them, but, a moment later, two men walked between them. They slowed to a halt and faced the three outsiders, one of them holding a rifle, the other a revolver. Both of them had a rusted Sheriff's star on their chest.

"Y'all havin' a good day?" The rifleman said.

"Just fine." Aiden nodded.

"We seen you before?"

"Me?" Aiden asked. "No, sir."

"Well, I know _her_ for certain…" The old Sheriff with the rifle pointed at Alice.

"What, in ya dreams?" Alice asked, unimpressed.

"In my office…" The Sheriff frowned, scratching his chin. "What's your name, miss?"

"This is, uh…" Aiden glanced to Alice, "my friend's wife." He gestured to Jay.

"My wife?" Jay's eyes grew wide.

"Well, I ain't gonna call her your whore!" Aiden replied sharply before turning back to the lawmen. "She's called Genevieve Simmons."

"Genevieve Simmons?" The old Sheriff frowned.

"Nah." Alice spat onto the ground. "My name is Alice MacKenzie."

The Sheriff nodded slowly, pointing a finger at her. "You're the one most'a these folks 'round here call turncoat."

"What? Who?"

"Mama Watson and her boys."

"Oh, that's nice," Alice nudged Jay in the arm, "I ain't never had a nickname before…" She looked back to the Sheriff. "They're still alive and kickin', then?"

The Sheriff spat out tobacco. "You shot the Sheriff and his deputy three years back."

Alice held up a finger in thought. "I… no, it was just the deputy."

"Y'know, there's a price on your head, girl?" The Sheriff approached with his deputy. "Four and a half thousand dollars."

Jay whistled.

"You should ask for more," Alice said.

"It's enough."

The corner of Alice's mouth twitched into a smirk. "Worth your life?"

"Woman…" Aiden hissed.

"Dead or alive, girl!" The Sheriff cocked the lever of his rifle.

Alice chortled and strolled forwards, holding her hands up. "Alright…"

"Alice!" Aiden hissed.

"Please, take me in!" Alice said loudly. "P-please, sir, 'fore I piss m'self right here and now!"

The Sheriff frowned, turning his head to look at his deputy and as soon as he did, Alice drew one of her silver Schofield revolvers. Then the other. She fired one. Then the other. A lawman fell. Then the other.

"Jesus Christ!" Aiden went for Alice, but bullets cracked across the town and people screamed and howled as lawmen filed out of the Sheriff's office, armed with rifles. Aiden grabbed Jay by the collar and pulled him back to the left, behind a small building. He looked across to see Sam behind the post office on the other side of the road, and in the middle of the road, both revolvers drawn and leaning out of the way bullets, was Alice. "You've lost your mind, woman!" Aiden shouted.

"Just sport, moody-bones!"

"Sam!" Aiden took the satchel from his shoulder and hurled it across the road. It landed behind Sam, slapping into the wet sludge. "Get Alice! Get back to camp!"

"I can fight-"

"Take the goddamn money! And get _her_ outta here- leave this to folk who can handle it!"

Sam ran towards Alice and began to tug on her sleeve, trying to pull Alice back. Aiden groaned and glanced to Jay.

"You and me, _hermano_." Jay clicked back the blue-steel hammers of his revolvers and moved out into the centre of the street. One of the men bolted towards him, but Jay knelt down in the mud, aiming high with one of his revolvers. A gunshot later, the man's head was caught in the air as his legs flung out forwards from beneath him. A trail of smoke twisted out from the barrel of Jay's revolver as he turned to fire at the rest. Aiden came to his side, wielding his blackened-steel Cattleman and his scuffed-silver Packenbush.

Sam and Alice clambered onto their horses and began to gallop out of town, deep into the rainy forest. Aiden glanced to Jay. "Keep shootin' at 'em!" Aiden holstered his revolvers and wrapped a hand around the antler-hilt of knife, drawing it to cut at the lashings of the horses at the wagon. Aiden pulled on the reins of the horses, leading them over to Jay and shushing them. "Ready, Jay?"

Jay glanced over his shoulder to the horse before turning back to see a half-dozen of the citizens grabbing their guns. Jay twirled his revolvers and continued firing until both cylinders had nothing but shell casings. He twirled the revolvers back into his holsters, admiring his own handiwork at corpse-making before mounting the horse and galloping off with Aiden.

* * *

In the desert kissed by the setting sun, with winds whistling through the dirt and the sand, a silent creature slithers forth, its head gently raised above the ground as it sorts its way through the shrubs and sparse specks of grass.

A skinny, slight snake, painted with a blue and silver stripe, slows as it sees a dessert cotton-tail. Skinny and sniffing at some desert wildflowers. The snake's forked tongue slithers out of its mouth across the stones as it quietly inches its way forwards, rearing its head upon the rabbit's back.

The rabbit pauses, looking up into the sun out of interest. Looking for food, maybe? It matters not to the snake, who coils into itself before springing forwards and sinking its fangs deep into the soft grey fur, bleeding clear venom into the rabbit's veins.

The rabbit kicks out and tries to run, but falls onto its side, growling softly as the snake hisses out some air, watching the rabbit gently tire, its heart beating rapidly until it finally retires.

Time to feast.

* * *

The wagon rumbled along the wet dirt in the Bayou Nwa of Lemoyne. Slapping the reins against the horses was the giantess, Ambrosia. The scars on her cheeks were still raw from her own whips. The _malaka_…

Next to Ambrosia was Elias Harper, swaying from side to side as he gulped down a swig of shine. "Y'know…" Elias cleared his throat and wiped his mouth dry. "In a sense… we're all equal in America." Ambrosia let out a small scoff. "Listen: the Irish, the spics, negroes, Indians- the _Greeks_…" Elias slapped Ambrosia on the shoulder. "All of 'em are treated like… like peasants! And the 'Mericans are like Lords in their castles. So, in a way… we're all equal – cos the 'Mericans are all jumped-up bastards."

Ambrosia nodded slowly. "You're the worst drunk I know."

Elias snorted, "Who _else_ do you drink with?"

Ambrosia glanced to Elias. It was true, she didn't drink in saloons. Every now and then folk would visit the shack and have a drink, though most of them didn't talk to her. If she was younger, maybe she'd ask them why they looked at her like _that_. But she had dealt with the looks and the jokes and the names for four years (more or less).

The was a loud rattle and a crack and Ambrosia fell off the wagon, landing face-down in the mud.

"Ah, _malaka…_" Ambrosia growled, pushing her face out of the mud and slamming a fist into the mud angrily.

"Having trouble there?" Elias called from the seat on the wagon. He glanced to the back wheel of the wagon, which had fallen off. "I think there's a problem with the wheel."

"You think?" Ambrosia stood up, wiping the mud down on her pants – failing to do anything else but rub it in deeper. She walked towards the wheel and slowed to a halt. The fog produced two shadows on horseback.

Cantering forwards until they came into sight: One was a lean man, black-bearded and clad in a suit and derby hat. Beside him was another figure, dressed in a suit jacket with rounded cuffs and more buttons – a woman's coat. A brunette with a pretty face. Then again, they were all pretty compared to Ambrosia.

"Mr. Elias Harper?" The woman's voice shouted. "Mr. Elias Harper, that you up there?"

Elias climbed up to stand on his wagon. "Who's askin'?"

"Agent Jones, Pinkerton Detective!" She called back to him.

"Pinkertons?" Elias picked up a tattered satchel (with a strap that was made more of rope than leather) and cavalierly tugged it across his chest. "What can I do for you?"  
"You can tell us 'bout the Rune Brody gang."

"That remains to be seen," Elias shrugged, hopping down off the wagon and walking across the mud to the two detectives. "I ain't much in the business of discriminating against my fellow man. Least of all in favour of appeasing the bourgeoisie."

"We ain't French?" The man beside Jones frowned.

"This ain't nothing to do with rich and poor, Mr. Harper," Jones dismounted her horse, "this is 'bout good and evil, plain and simple."

"You think they aren't the same?" Elias turned his head to the side.

"We've not a problem with you, Mr. Harper; continue slinging your shine – we know that money ain't funding Martelli's boys in Saint Denis, so we're more than happy to leave you to it. But you know as well as I do that those men you're working with are killers. So…" Jones held out her hands. "You want to tell me what you know about them?"

Elias glanced over to Ambrosia and raised his eyebrows before pulling a cigarette out of his carton and patting down his light brown leather jacket for matches. "You got any- wait…" He found them in the pockets of his jeans.

"What, do you want money?" The agent beside Jones asked. Ambrosia's round, green eyes flickered to Elias, waiting to see his reaction. He removed his lit cigarette and blew on the embers.

"I ain't doing this for the money," Elias said simply, "and I ain't doin' it for power neither. Thing is…" Elias dipped a hand into the satchel, "I just ain't about to lie down and die for the bourgeoisie."

Elias produced a stick of dynamite with a long thin fuse, which he lit with his cigarette. He looked to Jones and smiled, holding the dynamite up beside his face.

"Have you lost your mind, man?" Winters shouted.

"Quite a while ago, I recall."

"You're willing to kill us all here?"

Elias shrugged, puffing on his cigarette as he watched Jones' eyes watch the spark edge closer to the crooked stick of dynamite. Jones took several steps back and mounted her horse, galloping back with Winters.

Elias plucked the fuse from the stick of dynamite, tossing it onto the ground and placing the stick back into his bag. He looked over to Ambrosia and walked over to her, stretching his arms. "Well, when you're ready, Rosie…"

**So, hope you all enjoyed! One thing I wanna state, just straight off – that snake is not relating to the Pinkertons, Ambrosia OR Elias. While I ****_did_**** base it off someone in the story, I also like writing these little nature shots just because it's reflective of the theme of the series – the Old West is ending, these creatures lost a lot of their homes – much like our loveable gang of misfits and rogues.**

**Okay, so I can't remember who started this (I think it was my guy, **_motordog_**) but I wanna keep this going, so I wanna put forth a song for a character who ****was**** in this story.**** I really ****really**** miss writing Matty Donnelly. A song that reminds me of him is actually from Red Dead Redemption 2 – the camp song, ****_O Mollie_****. I'd suggest looking up CamillasChoice's cover, which she calls ****_Rye Whiskey_****.**

**So, leave a review – I am ****_always_**** accepting characters. Pinkertons are always fun to write and, thanks primarily to **_Lawrence Cartwright_**, I think most of you are seeing Pinkertons as something other than the villains. 'Cos in the end, there's good and bad on every side. BUT, if you really want to send in a character, send in one for Guido Martelli's syndicate – I'm planning to revolve an entire instalment/phase around them.**

**R.**


	9. A Complicated Relationship

**I know, another update! There's only ****FOUR**** more chapters to this instalment so get those reviews in while you can. I hope you're all enjoying what I'm spitting out here.**

_Three Sisters, Grizzlies East, AM_

_23__rd__ September, 1905_

Near sat at the table, looking down at his leg; his knee was crooked and bent and still hurt when he put weight on it, but he wouldn't be seen with a cane. He saw some of the looks he got – he wasn't dead yet.

Christ, how old was Near? Seventy-two last month… He didn't have long left, he knew that. Maybe a year or two if he was lucky. He'd seen the bloodiest war in the history of the country. He'd seen gangs rise and fall… he'd already lived longer than any other who trod that path.

Young Charlotte sat down at the table next to Near, setting down a tin cup of coffee. Near raised an eyebrow, glancing over at her.

"You don't drink coffee."

Charlotte shrugged. "I'm trying it." She took a sip of the black drink and grimaced. "Okay, I'm done trying it."

"I know, it tastes like shit…" Near nodded. "Wait 'til Abuela makes some then try that."

"So, not all coffee tastes bad?"

Near thought for a moment. "At first, sure. But you learn to love it." Charlotte nodded, wrapping her hands around the hot metal. Near crossed his arms and turned to face her. "You've the look of a woman who wants something."

Charlotte twisted her mouth in thought. "Do you believe in God?"

Near raised both eyebrows and rubbed his heavily scarred chin, turning to look at the girl. "Ol' Eli been talking up a storm again?" Charlotte remained silent and Near thought on how to word it. "Me and faith've got a… complicated relationship."

"What's that mean?"

"Ah, I've found God as often as I've lost him in my life…"

"So, you think God made us?" Near shrugged in response. "Why?"

"What's brought this on, Charlie?"

"I was just…" Charlotte dropped her eyes to her hands as she picked at her nails. "Thinking about Matty and Parker… and Ava…" Near nodded. He could still recall Ava helping Charlotte powder her face. Near had never had any daughters, but seeing the two of them together… they were sisters, that was for sure. Despite all the shit that happened in the gang, they were the only family each of them had left.

"You sure miss her, huh?"

Charlotte shrugged. "I'm just trying to figure out why bad things happen to good people."

Near flicked his tongue across his teeth and finally removed his brown carrigan hat, stroking a hand over the eagle feather, gifted to him by Night's Hawk. "_Who_ is the easy part…" He began slowly. "Whoever- whatever created us, it's same as created everything else." There was a pause as Charlotte's eyes met his. "_Why_… is harder. I think it's something you choose." He gestured to the rising sun. "Sunlight, trees, dirt… I don't think we're meant for more than any of it. But… things ain't just good or bad, Charlie. _We_ decide what makes them bad." He leant forwards, sweeping her blonde hair back from her face and tucking it behind her ear. "We're the way that anything is good or bad."

Charlotte smiled, her brow stitched together. "I ain't sure I understand…"

"Yeah, me neither, sweetheart." Near straightened up and poured Charlotte's cup empty. "Now go- get Abuela to make us some coffee that don't taste like shit."

* * *

The Grizzlies were dangerous and Elvira Colt was wholly out of her element. As much as she loved sleeping out under the stars in a bad of her own, as opposed to sharing a bed with another girl in stained sheets while listening to the others moan with pleasure (or, at least, seem to). But she didn't enjoy this part – she didn't know shit about hunting. That's why she felt guilty about saying she _was_ hunting with Night's Hawk.

Ellie had never met an Indian before. Night's Hawk was more on the skinny side, his hair shorn bare at the sides with a single braid going down the centre of his scalp. He wore a necklace with a bird's talon, a pale blue sash tied around his waist. He carried a bow in one hand, his other resting on the quiver of arrows by his waist, hanging right next to his tomahawk.

"So, your name…" She said, trailing after him. "Is it _actually_ Night's Hawk, or is that the English for it?"

"I don't speak my language outside of my land."

"Ain't this your land?"

"Not anymore."

Ellie nodded. "So, Night's Hawk. How'd your folks come up with that one?"

"She liked how it sounded."

Ellie grinned. "Did I just hear ya make a _joke_?" Night's Hawk slid an arrow out of his quiver as they climbed up to the rock-face of a hill. "C'mon, be serious."

Night's Hawk set the arrow on the bowstring and turned back to face her. "When I was born, I was taken to my elder," he explained. "My mother paid him in tobacco and he called me Night's Hawk. He said I was to be the last born before we moved to the reservation. Like the last Hawk that flies in the night…" He said, glancing up at the sky, empty of all hawks.

"So, someone said something and then… you're stuck with it?"

"I didn't call myself that until years later," Night's Hawk said to her, as his eyes scanned the trees, "I had to be worthy of it."

"How did you prove yourself worthy?"  
"I killed the man who killed my father," Night's Hawk replied.

Ellie frowned. "But-"

"No."

Ellie's mouth hung open for a moment before she closed it. "Right." There was a tense pause as Night's Hawk went down on one knee, looking out into the distance. "What are you doing?"

"Waiting."

"Waiting for what?" Ellie knelt down next to him, seeing the antlers of a buck nearby. "There's a deer right there."

Night's Hawk shook his head. "Not her…"

The wind whistled by, rustling the leaves and trees. "So, why don't you choose your own name? Something a little more… normal?"

"Why should I?" Night's Hawk asked simply.

"Well… Night's Hawk… it's not easy to blend in."

"When have we ever tried to blend in?"

"Maybe you'll want to someday."

Night's Hawk paused. Ellie thought that, for a moment, he was thinking up a name for himself. Maybe he'd ask her opinion…

He drew back the arrow and fired. The arrow soared, cutting through the air, and Ellie heard an echo of a growl. Night's Hawk straightened up, pulling the bow across his chest as he made his way down the hill, with Elvira trailing after him.

By the time Elvira caught up, Night's Hawk was knelt above a wounded, dying stag, groaning and braying as its legs kicked out. Night's Hawk's hand wrapped around the jawbone hilt of his knife and he knelt down, bowing his head and closing his eyes. His lips moved, but no words came out. Finally, he thrust the blade into the stag's heart, watching it grow still.

"Did you just… pray for it?" Ellie asked.

Night's Hawk withdrew his knife from the carcass. "Thanking it." He straightened up. "It's important to-" His eyes grew wide and Night's Hawk froze as his eyes set on something behind Ellie. She turned around to see five wolves, padding across the dirt and approaching them. Ellie went to step behind Night's Hawk, but he grabbed her neck, holding her in place, forcing her head to look down.

"What're you-"

"Look. Down." Night's Hawk spoke loudly in a language Elvira did not understand. She couldn't tell if it was a handful of words or fifty. The wolves growled and began to encircle them. Night's Hawk continued talking loudly, his hand resting on the tomahawk. He widened his stance and continued speaking loudly. The wolves began howling, a sound that pierced Ellie's ears.

"If I tell you," Night's Hawk said loudly to Ellie, "shoot the one on your left first." He drew his tomahawk and his knife.

A howl echoed over the hills in the distance. The wolves glanced over to the howls and then back to Night's Hawk, growling and looking to the stag. They howled again. More distant howls.

Finally, they turned and left.

Night's Hawk sheathed his tomahawk and knife, turning to the stag carcass. Ellie, on the other hand, looked from Night's Hawk to where the wolves ran, completely dumbfounded. "Wha…" Ellie looked to Night's Hawk, who'd throw the stag over his shoulder. "What was that?"

"Wolves. Must've stolen their kill…"

"No,_ that_! You… did you talk to them?"

"_At _them."

"Did they understand you?"

"In a way," Night's Hawk responded as he began to walk back up the hill. "Reckon this should be enough…"

**A short chapter, I know, but I want to make sure every chapter has at least 2 POV's, so I'm moving one to the next chapter. Besides, I feel like there's some things to reflect on from this chapter, and I'd rather not overshadow them.**

**I'm writing the next chapter as we speak, so it should be up today or tomorrow. Don't forget to drop a review…**

**R.**


	10. A Pair of Strangers

**I promised another chapter, and so I delivered! Well, this time anyway. Remember you can still send in characters! **

**Three more chapters, what can I say? Erm… After this, there's 8 phases to this story, and we're finishing up the fourth so… we're pretty much halfway through the series. As you all know, I didn't intend on 8, but I just realized there's 8 parts/chapters to the game so… that's funny.**

_Cattail Pond, West Grizzlies, AM_

_23__rd__ September, 1905_

Alice splashed the water on her face and around her neck, breathing deeply as she felt it cool her skin, already kissed by sweat from the rigorous riding out of state. Alice smiled in thought – another shoot-out in Strawberry, and she'd emerged without a single wound. Was it possible? She must've been the greatest gunslinger who'd ever lived… so far, anyway.

Alice unbuttoned her breeches and shirt, stripping down to her union suit. She stepped into the cold water, feeling the pebbles press against her bare feet. She felt her shins get wrapped in the cool water, cleansing sweat from her skin. A smile formed on her lips as she leant down and dipped her face into the water.

"You done yet?"

Alice's back arced up as she swept the wet red hair out of her face to see Sam Washington leading his horse to the water, a dead wolf strapped to the back of his saddle.

"How long you been watching me?"

"I wasn't-"

"You like lookin' at ladies bathing, that it?"

"Oh, shut up, Alice…"

"Excuse me, boy?" Alice cocked her head to the side. "Daddy ain't here to protect you right now."

"I don't need D- Rune to look after me."

"Oh?" Alice grinned, going back into the water. "Come show me, then."

"I'm alright."

"The water's fine. Ain't no monsters in here."

"There's one, for sure."

Alice rolled her eyes. "Christ, you're boring…"

"And you're a bastard… woman." Sam said, trying to sound gruff. Alice placed her hands on her hips and nodded.

"Well, that's me told." She walked up to the shore and lay down on the ground.

"What're you doing?"

"Drying."

"We ain't got time for-"

Alice held up a finger, "Shh, Lil' Sam. Holler if there's trouble…" She closed her eyes and breathed out gently.

"Jesus Christ…" Sam muttered, glancing around and weighing up whether to mount his horse, Mercer, and ride away or not.

* * *

On the edge of Big Valley, Aiden and Jay rested. They ambled forwards on their horses along the muddied road as they passed the pine trees and lush green grass. Jay found it… _too_ green. He preferred New Austin, where grass didn't grow. There was just sand and dust. Here… well, it was cold. Aiden, however, couldn't help but feel sad; it gladdened him to see that the forest still existed, that there were places the gang could still live without the say-so of Uncle Sam. But there was a small, nagging doubt in the back of his head – there weren't many places like that left anymore.

"Why's it so goddamn cold 'round here?" Jay groaned, pulling his coat closer around his chest.

Aiden felt hungry… he started to look around his horse, checking for tracks of a hare or… well, even a squirrel. He looked behind his horse to see two figures on horseback. He frowned and turned back to Jay, who was still complaining.

"… _And_ there should be more women in the camp! 'Part from _Abuela_ and _pequeña_ Charlotte, we've only got Elvira and that _pendejo_, Alice. Why ain't you got more women?"

"We did…" Aiden replied.

"What happened?"

"What d'ya think? She died."

Jay scoffed. "Just my luck…"

"Don't make this 'bout you," Aiden said curtly, "it's just one of them things."

"This is Ava, right?"

Aiden nodded. "Right."

"You and her have a thing?" Aiden shook his head. "Friends?"

"No more than everyone else…" Aiden said. "She was nice. Real good woman…" He glanced over his shoulder again to see the silhouettes ambling behind them. They hadn't ridden by... odds were they were following. "Get off your horse." Aiden told Jay.

"What?"

"We're being followed…" Aiden dismounted and led the wagon-horse by the reins to a tree, looping the leather reins around the tree. Jay followed in suit and Aiden glanced over to Jay for a moment as he began to pat down the horse's neck, shushed his horse.

The riders ambled forwards slowly, riding their horses off the road and looping around to face Aiden and Jay. The first man was tall, with piercing azure eyes and a shorn scalp beneath his derby hat. He wore a black suit, the gold chain of his pocket watch showing. Probably paid a small fortune for it… Aiden's father had lost the chain to his watch a _long_ time ago.

The second man was ruddy-cheeked and pale, with a broader cut than the first man. He was also dressed in a suit. Both men dismounted.

"Afternoon, gentlemen," The first man said, "giving your horses a rest, are you?"

Aiden began to roll a cigarette as Jay crossed his arms. "We just figured you'd wanna give yours a rest…" Jay shrugged. "It's a long way back to our camp."

The strangers exchanged a look. "Do we know you people?" The ruddy-cheeked man asked.

"Hope so," Aiden muttered, "otherwise I might be wonderin' why you two are followin' a pair of strangers."

The first man grinned a pointed a finger at Aiden. "We had you down as a dullard, Mr. McKneil. You've a sharp mind- I didn't expect that from you."

"I'm sure there's a compliment in there somewhere…" Aiden lit his cigarette.

"This one Gonzalez?" The man asked.

"His name's-"

"_Si_,_ mi amo Jay Gonzalez_," Jay said loudly, taking a step forwards. "You a fan?"

"Not exactly."

"Then why ride all this way to find me?"

The second man laughed. "You've an inflated view of yourself, boy. If we had the slightest interest in a spic such as yourself, we'd have saddled you up and ridden you back to Chicago."

"The hell you just say, _puta_-" Jay began, only to be hit hard in the gut by the second man. Jay crumpled up and fell to the ground, holding his waist, gasping for breath. "_Madre_…" he groaned.

The first man looked up to Aiden. "I trust you can empathise with my associate's rather blunt nature."

"Who're you?"

The man opened his jacket to reveal a shining silver shield. "Agent Bayfield of the Pinkerton Detective Agency. Agent Finch…" He gestured to the second man. "There's a price on your heads. And Rune Brody's…"

"McKneil!" Jay barked. "Kill this _cunjo pendejos_!"

Aiden glanced from Jay to the two men. Finch had drawn a pump-action shotgun from his saddle. "Nah, I'm alright, Jay."

Bayfield removed a cigarette from his carton. "We've not heard about Mr. Donnelly or Miss Delacroix for a while now…" He lit his cigarette, examining Aiden. "It's barely a chicken scratch."

"What?"

Bayfield tapped his eyebrow. "We thought it to be grizzly and ugly… I'll have to amend the poster of you."

"Will ya?" Aiden nodded.

Bayfield gripped his own lapel. "Bounty's gone up to six and a half thousand for you, Mr. McKneil."

"Just for me?" Aiden glanced to Jay. "Shouldn't have said that in front of him- he'll get jealous."

The corner of Bayfield's lip curled. "I'm going to give you this offer- just this once, Mr. McKneil. Turn yourselves in – you, MacKenzie, Brody and Simmons, and I promise you won't swing. Hell… I'll even promise you fine treatment."

"In jail?"

"Or maybe work with us," Bayfield tossed his cigarette away. "Hunt down criminals…"

"Oh, sure! You gonna a saddle for me as well?" Aiden cocked his head to the side.

"It's a generous offer," Finch growled.

"Forgive me if I don't see it that way," Aiden snarled. He walked towards them. "How's about you two run off to Chicago, tell your owners that I ain't gonna play by a game that _you_ lot wrote the rules for!"

"Those Rune Brody's words?" Bayfield asked.

"Them's my words."

"Mr. McKneil, you've robbed and murdered-"

"It's pointless, Bayfield…" Finch scoffed. "This one's too foolish or… too cowardly to save his own skin."

"Watch your mouth, boy," Aiden growled.

"You willin' to let that kid die?" Finch asked. "The preacher, the lil' ol' lady… You want 'em to die with the rest of you?" Aiden's hand curled into a fist. "Cos they will," Finch crooned, "and it'll be all down to you and your-"

Aiden's hand flashed forwards and he slapped the brim of Finch's derby hat, flipping it off his head as he took a step forwards, his face inches apart from Finch's. Finch drew his revolver, pointing it at Aiden's face. Jay drew one his revolver's from the ground and aimed at Finch, still groaning.

"How about I goddamn kill you, boy?" Aiden shouted, slapping Finch's gun away.

"Calm down, Mr. McKneil…" Bayfield said calmly.

"How about I goddamn _kill_ ya?" Aiden continued to shout.

"Mr. McKneil!" Bayfield raised his voice for the first time. Aiden kept his eyes locked on Finch's. "Remember my offer, sir.

"Yeah…" Finch smiled. "When we put the noose around your neck, remember we offered you mercy. Remember that when you see me there to watch you swing-"

"Neither of you are gonna be there to see that," Aiden stated plainly.

"I suppose we shall see," Bayfield replied.

Aiden watched them riding away, his hand resting on the embossed eagle on the white grip of his revolver. He thought about drawing – about shooting them both in the head. But… Pinkertons were after them. Goddamn _Pinkertons_! There hadn't been a gang that'd gone up against the Pinkertons and won. And killing Pinkertons… that was a sure way of bringing the full force of them down on the gang.

"Goddamn it…" Aiden muttered, turning to Jay and offering a hand. "You alright, Jay?"

Jay smacked Aiden's hand aside and pushed himself up to his feet. "The hell is wrong with you?"

"What?"

"Why didn't you help me?"

"'Cos you were actin' like an idiot."

Jay pointed a finger at Aiden. "I've taken on bigger men than you, _hermano_…" Jay mounted the horse and began to canter down the road east.

"Whatever you say, you fool…" Aiden muttered, mounting his horse and following.

**Yup, another small chapter. I figured you might like this because characters meeting each other for the first time is always fun. So, leave a review and say what you thought!**

**R.**


	11. The Damn Fools

**So, this one has a few POV's, but most of them are short so… forewarned (tangent: isn't 'forewarning' a pointless word? I mean, how is 'forewarning' different to 'warning'?).**

_Three Sisters, Grizzlies East, AM_

_24__th__ September, 1905_

Mud, rain, shit and stew. It really wasn't pretty… but, then again, nothing had really been pretty for Rune since Silver Bend. He was forty-five and truly, utterly felt it. Clara and Matilda, Ira, Holt, Ava, Parker, Matty… He'd buried everyone from his former life. Well, save Luca, Aiden and Abuela Paloma.

The old woman served Rune a bowl of stew with a cracked loaf of bread. He smiled his thanks and tore off a part of the bread, dipping it into the liquid and ate. If it wasn't for Abuela, well, life wouldn't be quite as bearable. It was the small things – the food wasn't amazing, but they never went hungry.

"Abuela," Rune asked, swallowing the bread, "do you ever miss New Austin?"

Paloma held her sore hip and lowered herself down onto a seat at the table, deep in thought. "I miss… what I had there," she said finally. "But, longing for it won't help."

Rune rubbed his chin and nodded. "I had a dream that I was back in Ridgewood…" He chuckled, "with Matilda."

Paloma remembered the girl – blue-eyed like Rune, but blonde like Clara. She placed a hand over Rune's. "She's in Heaven, now, Rune."

Rune nodded, watching Young Charlotte amble back into camp on the back of Ryder. "She hadn't even turned three."

"A tragedy," Paloma said quietly. "But… the Lord has a plan."

"Yeah, I reckon so…" Rune nodded. "I was part of a massacre," he told her, his eyes set on the stew in front of him, chunks of game meat bobbing up and down like ships in the ocean. "You gotta wonder if it's his way of punishing me."

Paloma wasn't entirely sure how to respond. "I… don't know…"

Rune scoffed. "Yeah, who does?"

* * *

Charlotte looked over to Lana, who was astride Luna, her rose-grey Andalusian. Lana dismounted and hitched her horse to the tree.

"Ryder's taken to you," Lana commented.

"He's a sweetheart," Charlotte said, stroking Ryder's shining gold coat.

"Remember to give him an oatcake," Lana said, "Aiden's spoiled him rotten."

Charlotte smiled and dismounted (helped down by Lana). She delved into the saddle bag and pulled out a paper bag of oatcakes. She walked around to take one out, and Ryder immediately chomped it out of her hand. Lana rubbed Luna's face and glanced over to Charlotte.

"As I said…" Lana squinted at Ryder. "Spoiled rotten."

Charlotte scowled at Ryder and walked back into camp with Lana, in time to see Luca holding baby Enzo. "Everything's okay?" Lana asked Luca.

"Yes- of course- I told you everything would be fine…" Luca handed Enzo to Lana, who bounced him against her chest and kissed his forehead, speaking to him in Italian. "How was Ryder?" Luca asked Charlotte.

"He's big… and likes to run…"

"Yeah, he's a big ol' bastard, ain't he-"

"Luca!" Lana scowled at him, gesturing to Enzo, who cooed.

"He doesn't understand…"

"That's not the point."

Luca rolled his eyes. "Well, it's been said now, so…"

A loud piercing whistle broke through the camp, and they all turned to see Alice and Jay riding their horses back into camp. Alice was leant forwards on Birdie, holding out her arms.

"Ain't no-one going to greet us?"

"We didn't hear ya," Lana said loudly.

"Erm, yeah? _That_'s the problem!" Alice dismounted. "Two riders snuck up on ya no problem. And if we weren't quite so friendly…"

Rune glanced over to Near. "Where's Anna and Night's Hawk?"

* * *

"Pinkertons?" Anna asked, an eyebrow cocked.

"That's what they said…" Tahoma Grudge said. "Said they knew about Harper working with you."

Anna ran a hand through her dark blonde hair, scratching her scalp. "We should tell Rune about this…" She muttered.

"Harper told me to tell you that he didn't know you have Pinkertons after you," Tahoma said loudly. He took a step forwards. "He feels as though you may've betrayed his trust."

Night's Hawk took a step forwards, his brow furrowed and face hard as stone as Tahoma examined him.

"_Why_ is it a redskin sides with white men?" Tahoma asked quietly.

"You're calling him a redskin?" Anna frowned.

"_Everyone_ calls us redskins, so redskins we are," Tahoma replied sharply before turning back to Night's Hawk. "Here you are, fighting another man's battle… because you lost your own?" He raised an eyebrow. "Or is it because you're just angry? You're angry so you want to fight someone- _anyone_?"

"Quiet," Night's Hawk hissed.

"You're not Navajo… Natchitoches? Cherokee? Wapiti? Lakot- Wapiti?" Tahoma grinned as Night's Hawk's jaw clenched. "You seen the reservation lately?"

Anna took a step forwards. "You got any other messages to deliver?"

"Harper wants-"

"Harper can shut his goddamn mouth and not ask any more questions!" Anna scowled. "And when he asks why, we'll let _you_ tell him why we left…" Anna grabbed Night's Hawk's arm and pulled him away from Tahoma, who took off his hat and bowed deeply. Night's Hawk glared, but allowed himself to be pulled away by Anna. "Don't listen to him…"

"I wasn't."

"He's a fool."

"He is."

Anna glanced over to Night's Hawk, who was quiet (as per usual), but there was that silent rage to him as well. That fury he had never outgrew – it only seemed to grow with him. Anna grabbed his shoulder and made him face her. "The Wapiti took me in when I had nothing- no-one." She explained. He paused, his deep honey-brown eyes fixed to the ground. "I know what it's like to lose everything…"

Night's Hawk glared at her. "You have no idea what _loss_ is," he hissed, turning away from her and walking away.

* * *

A dog barked in the distance. Shepherd's Rise was a small cabin, situated on the fringe of Big Valley, near Wallace Station. Aiden and Jay dismounted their large horses and hitched them to the trees near the brand-new cabin. The wood was yet to be painted or rotten. There was lanternlight inside.

"We're so close…" Aiden groaned as he followed Jay forwards. "Why don't we just keep on- we can be back by sundown-"

"I said I'm _tired_, sour-face," Jay mimicked Aiden's moaning cadence. "Keep on if you want, but I'm stopping."

"No, no," Aiden shook his head, "I ain't having _you_ running about without your leash."

Jay pushed Aiden. "You're calling me _un perro_, huh? You wanna see if _esta perro muerde_?"

"Alright, calm down…"

"One of these days, I'm gonna put you straight-" Jay grumbled, turning away from Aiden, who grabbed his shoulder.

"Yeah, and I'll put you in the ground if you keep on, boy."

A dog barked in the distance. Jay scoffed, slapping Aiden's hands away. "Sure." He turned around and opened the door, waltzing inside and examining the place: It was filled with a couch, a leather armchair draped with knitted blankets, whittled stags and bears… furniture like an end table carved half-way (the rest left as a log).

Stag antlers were fixed to the wall and, in the corner of the room, a woman sat at the table with a man. Both were around Aiden's age (maybe a little younger). Both were blond and fresh-faced – probably bought the antlers in Valentine. Aiden's eyes fell on the woman's swollen belly.

"Evenin'," Jay said, tipping his hat to them as he walked around the room, letting his hand run across the knitted blankets and rough leather chair as he kicked a small tin dogbowl across the floor. "You folks keepin' well?"

"Excuse me, sirs," the man rose to his feet, holding his hands up, "we've not got anything to give you."

"Well, that ain't quite true, is it?" Jay cocked his head to the side.

"Jay…" Aiden hissed.

"I mean, we're both _starvin_'!" Jay laughed, smelling the pot. "And this- this smells _lovely_\- did you make this, _signora_?" He asked the woman, who nodded. "McKneil- come try some of this!"

"I'm fine," Aiden replied.

"Suit yourself…" Jay spooned a bowl for himself and began walking around the room, eating with a metal fork. "You got a knife here, or…?" The woman shook her head quickly. "Oh, relax, _cariño_, I'm not going to kill you…" Jay chuckled. "I don't get no pleasure outta killing women…"

"Jay, shut the hell up…" Aiden said loudly. Pinkertons had already found them – the more time spent with these strangers meant there was more of a trail for the Pinkertons to pick up.

"You two got any money?" Jay asked.

"We ain't robbing these-" Aiden said lowly.

"Who's robbing them? I'm _asking_."

"We…" The man began, "we ain't got much. Just a bit for food and further purchases like h-horses and bull…"

"Bull as in bullets?" Jay raised an eyebrow. He lowered a hand to his revolver. "You ain't got a gun on you now, have ya?"

"N-no sir!"

"You sure?" Jay grinned, taking a big step forwards and jerking his hand towards his gun. The man flinched, covering his face and Jay chuckled. "I'm only joking…"

Aiden grabbed Jay's shoulder and turned him around. "These fools ain't no problem," he said quietly, "let's just get out and get back to the others. If the Pinkertons-"

"Here I thought you had a lil' spine, _hermano_…" Jay scoffed. "You gone all yellow?"

"Don't you start boy…"

"You think you can growl and scare me into line?" Jay shook his head. "The fact is that whenever-"

A chair tumbled over as the man dashed across the room, pulling on the butt of a rifle. Aiden leapt out of the way, behind a couch. As the man turned around, rifle at the ready, Jay drew and fired two shots into the man's head. He fell backwards, slumping against the window.

"Billy!" The woman howled in anguish. Aiden looked up to see her sprinting towards him, a short, sharp knife in hand as she closed in on him. Two more gunshots were heard as she fell down beside him, her knife slashing across Aiden's cheek. He reeled away from her, panting frantically as he watched the woman touch her swollen belly, her face crumpling as she began to moan. Finally, her green eyes grew still, fixed on Aiden.

He remained there, propped up on his arms, watching the corpse stay still. "Jesus…" Jay muttered, kicking a chair. "Pair of fools…" he picked up a blanket and tossed it away, sifting through the possessions.

Aiden pushed himself up to his feet and walked over to Jay, shoving him back. "The hell was that?"

"Oh, you're damn well welcome…"

"You killed them!"

"He had a gun."

"And _her_?"

"I need to say it?" He prodded Aiden's fresh scar.

"You're a goddamn sickness…" Aiden growled at him, turning around to look at the women. "She had a goddamn child!"

"It was you or her, _hermano_!" Jay replied. "I did what I had to- I'll even let ya hate me for it. But if you were a little less soft, maybe you coulda dealt with _her_ better."

"Shut the hell up…" Aiden hoisted the woman over his shoulder. "I'm done listenin' to ya… you don't give a shit 'bout nobody else!"

"Oh, where are you goin' off to now?"

"Burying the damn fools…"

"Jesus Christ, _really_?"

"I don't wanna talk to you right now, Jay…" Aiden said, walking out of the door.

* * *

Aiden finished throwing the last shovelful of dirt on the grave before sinking the shovel into the ground. He examined the two shoddily-made crucifixes. He'd had to make do with sticks and twine from inside the house.

They didn't seem like bad people. The man was a fool, but he just wanted to protect his family. And the woman, well, she did what Lana or Alice or Abuela would've done. That baby yet to be born? Aiden didn't even know how to understand that.

Had he always been like that? Like Jay was? Had he always used saving other people as an excuse? Because… standing there, looking at the two graves with three people – he was starting to wonder if he'd been such a fool over all those years.

The gang, the people in it, their way, the life – it all meant more to him than anything else. He looked down at the graves and realized something: he'd do the same for the gang – in a heartbeat. If it was for Rune, Luca, Young Charlie – even Jay goddamn Gonzalez, he knew that there was nothing he wouldn't do for them all.

"I'm sorry…" Aiden removed his hat, picking at the frayed rim and licking his lips. "I ain't sure y'all deserved that…" He murmured. He took a deep breath and fitted the hat back onto his head.

He hoped he'd buried the bodies deep enough; he didn't like the idea of wolves digging them up.

A dog barked. Aiden turned to the side to see a tri-coloured American Foxhound there, playfully bowed forwards with its tail wagging fervently. Aiden glanced to the grave and nodded. Of course.

"Sorry, boy…" Aiden walked past the dog, scratching its neck. "Wish it were otherwise…"

**So, that's it! I've noticed a dip in reviews which is understandable – I took a while to update, so some of y'all might be slow to pick up on this again. But there's only a handful of chapters left. And by that, I mean 2, so get them reviews in before I move on.**

**Let me know your thoughts on this chapter, and I'll see you guys for the penultimate one which will be up (hopefully) tomorrow (Tuesday).**

**Review and the like.**

**R.**


	12. The Vote

**Yup, I am pumping these out. That means the final chapter will be up tomorrow… I think you'll all be pleasantly surprised while reading it.**

_24__th__ September, 1905_

_Three Sisters, Grizzlies East, AM_

That dog didn't stop following them. Aiden and Jay found themselves leading the American Foxhound back into camp, where the rest of the gang were gathered, all talking in hushed whispers amongst each other.

"Is it too much to ask for a little excitement?" Jay muttered.

Aiden and he dismounted, hitching their horses to a nearby tree and approaching the gang, who all stood and sat around the table. Rune, of course, was at the centre, with one foot on a small barrel, resting his forearm upon his knee.

"Didn't say," Anna said, who was sitting down beside Rune, "just that they showed up, knew about us."

"Who, exactly is 'us'?" Rune frowned.

"I don't know… I'm guessing all of us?"

"What's goin' on?" Aiden asked, holding his belt buckle.

"Ah, good to see ya, son!" Rune turned around, slapping his shoulder. "Just the man I needed!"

"For what?"

"Pinkertons have been sniffing around. Asking our associate, Mr. Harper about us…"

"That so?" Aiden asked, looking to Anna.

"His dogsbody came found me and Night's Hawk – said they're being paid to take us down."

"The rigid morality of the Pinkertons…" Rune scoffed. Aiden shared the scoff, crossing his arms. "But, if they found Harper, they'll find the rest of us soon, that much is for sure."

"They already caught up to Jay and me back west."

Everyone turned to look at Aiden. Rune turned to Jay. "Jay, brother, go watch for any strange folk. Take someone- take Alice with ya." Jay nodded, moving past Aiden (and bumping his shoulder into him) as he grabbed a rifle from the table and walked back across camp. "Near. Luca." Rune jerked his head to his tent and the four men entered, with Luca closing the flaps behind the tent.

Inside the tent, everything has a slightly red hue – mainly because of the sun bleeding through the burgundy fabric. It was bigger than the rest of the tents – with a large, wolfskin cot, a desk, a large trunk, chained and padlocked shut, as well as a full-sized mirror.

"So, what happened?" Rune asked Aiden.

"These two fella's came askin' about. Agent Bayfield and Agent Finch."  
"Never heard of them…" Luca shrugged.

"Bloody Buck Bayfield?" Near raised an eyebrow.

"Could be." Aiden shrugged.

"Fella started taking down the Phelps-Osbourne Gang back in '01."

"I'm guessing he finished the job…" Luca muttered, sitting Near down at the desk.

"So, what's our move, Rune?" Near asked, smacking Luca's hands away.

"It's a shame you didn't shoot them both, son."

Aiden scoffed. "Yeah, funny."

"You see me laughing?"

Aiden frowned, looking from Luca to Near and back to Rune. "I… I can't kill Pinkertons over that- they'll come after us with everything they've got!"

"You think they won't already?"

"Stop ignoring me, Rune," Near said loudly, "what's our move?"

Rune stroked his greying beard, breathing deeply through his nose as his eyes began to flicker about. He looked over to the youngest there. "What do you think, Aiden?"

Aiden shrugged. "I dunno, I mean…" he leant forwards and kept his voice quiet, "if Pinkertons are here, well, we best get good and lost. Maybe even head outta state-"

"No, we head out of state when we _know_ no-one's following us." Rune stated firmly. "Last thing we need is a patrol at the border and being caught between two sides of the bastards…"

"So, what're we gonna do?" Aiden asked. "They chased us from the west, followed us down south- we're about as east as east goes…"

"Calgary, son," Rune said simply. "We make money until we buy land in Calgary and settle down."

"Why Calgary, Rune?" Luca frowned. "Why _Canada_? I mean, we're so close to Mexico as is…"

"As I've said, a group of low-life _gringos_ is far too conspicuous. I daresay the corruption in that land is akin to the type in ours…"

"Canada _is _a long way off, Rune…" Near murmured.

"Then what's _your_ solution, Near?" Rune snapped.

"I don't know, I'm just-" Near held up his hands.

"Well don't 'just'!" Rune straightened up. "You do _not_ poke holes without providing _solutions_," he hissed.

"We're moving then?" Luca asked. Rune stroked his beard once again.

"These Pinkertons… Bayfield and…?"

"Finch."

"Bayfield and Finch… when did they see you?"

"Yesterday."

"The _same_ day our friend Elias is found by the very same Pinkertons…" Rune glanced to Luca. "Coincidence?"

"You think he ratted us out?"

"Bit stupid, isn't it?" Near frowned. "Rat us out and then _tell_ us they found him?"

"Unless that's what he's counting on…" Luca pointed out, " it's good cover."

"He don't strike me as much of a 'thinking' type…" Aiden muttered.

"You would know," Rune murmured, his lip curling.

"No doubt," Aiden replied. "Rune?"

Rune tapped his chin, looking between the three men. He sighed.

* * *

Charlotte crouched down beside the tent, listening intently… Did Rune know she was there? Is that why he stopped talking? She didn't dare move. Finally, he spoke.

"We put it to a vote."

"To…?" Aiden asked.

"To kill him or leave," Near said.

"I told you, we _ain't_ leaving," Rune responded, "we've already made too much money to stop now-"

"So why don't we head North now?" Near asked.

"Because we don't have _enough_. How many times do I need to say it?"

"Alright, so, we vote," Aiden said, "whether we kill them or not, where are we heading? If Pinkertons are sniffing around the bayou, they'll be closing in on us soon."

Rune let out a sigh. "I'm open to suggestions."

"Scarlett Meadows is too dangerous… we've been pretty much run outta New Hanover and West Elizabeth…" Luca stated. "Way I see it, we can either head South, lose ourselves in those Saint Denis crowds."

"Or?"

"Or… we cut our losses and head North."

There was a silence as Rune's footsteps clunked against the wooden floorboards within the tent. "No," he said finally, "no, we ain't letting them win. We're not tucking tail and running – that's _exactly_ what they want!" He stepped outside of the tent, drew his revolver and fired three shots into the air. Then, in the distance, three distant rifle shots were heard.

A dog barked. Charlotte turned around to see an American Foxhound there, barely older than a pup, playfully bowed, tail wagging. She frowned and cocked her head to the side.

The others left the tent and began walking around – Luca tended to his wife and son, Near was helped down into his seat by Night's Hawk and Aiden walked over to Charlotte, who had moved away from the tent.

"Is it yours?"

"He-" Aiden paused and glanced down at the dog. "_She_ just decided to follow us, I think."

"Where's her family?" Charlotte asked, walking forwards and watching the dog sniff and lick her hand – rough tongue.

"She ain't got none," Aiden said, "no daddy or momma."

"Y'know, my momma died when I was a kid," Charlotte said brightly.

Aiden nodded. "Yeah, mine too, Charlie… Mine too."

"What's her name?" Charlotte asked. Aiden shrugged in response. "Can I name her?"

"Sure."

Charlotte paused. "I don't know what to name her."

"Well, take your time – the mutt ain't goin' nowhere…" Aiden turned away from Charlotte to watch Jay and Alice return to the camp.

"What's goin' on?" Alice asked.

"Vote," Rune murmured as everyone gathered around. "Folks, we've got Pinkertons on us, as you know… but what you don't know is that Elias Harper has-"

"_May_ have," Near corrected Rune.

"Yes, thank you, Near, _may have_ sold us out to the Pinkertons."

"What makes you think that?" Lana asked.

"Pinkertons contacted him the same day they sought out Aiden and Jay."

"So?"

"So, you think they were just wandering around, hoping to bump into 'em?"

"It's mighty suspicious, that's for sure…" Luca nodded.

"Can we afford to take the chance?" Rune asked. "Either way, we ain't working with them. The only question is, do we trust him not to have said anything?"

They all glanced to each other. "What do you think?" Anna asked.

"I think his talk of equality and freedom is bunk," Rune replied. "It's all too coincidental…"

"Coincidences _do_ happen," Near pointed out. "Why betray us and then tell us Pinkertons are looking for us?"  
"Maybe he's hoping that'll clear him," Rune said. "I don't give a shit 'bout Elias Harper – fact is that he's a threat that needs to be dealt with."

"More senseless killing?" Elijah, who'd been sat at the table silently throughout, looked up. "Three years and nothing's changed, Mr. Brody?"

"Excuse me?" Rune asked.

"After butchering folk and burning-"

"You know what, Father, I'm growing tired of this constant dissent," Rune said loudly. "You've been sitting around, doing _nothing_ for years!" Rune grabbed a Lancaster repeater and held it out to Elijah. "Now, you can either cut loose or stick with me, but I ain't letting you contribute _nothing_ and complain 'bout _everything_!" Elijah licked his lips, looking to Charlotte and Paloma. "Well?"

Elijah's jaw clenched and he rose to his feet, taking the repeater from Rune. "Fine."

"The vote is for whether or not to kill the traitor Elias Harper and his band of shiners!" Rune turned around and walked back to his place in the circle, raising his hand. "All in favour?"

Anna, Night's Hawk, Alice and Jay immediately raised their hands. Lana raised hers, then Luca (though he had to put it down momentarily, as Enzo was fussing). Rune looked to Aiden, who flicked his tongue across his teeth and hung his head, raising his hand. Sam raised his.

"Opposed?" Near asked, raising his hand. Ellie raised hers, as did Elijah, as did Paloma.

Rune walked back to his tent. "We ride out at midnight!"

* * *

Scarlett Meadows had known nothing but misery since the Rune Brody gang had rolled through all those years ago. The shops weren't making much, and folk didn't have much to spend – especially since the bank was ransacked back in 1902.

In Caliga Hall, sat with a crate of wine, was the one-eyed twenty-year-old Avery Davenport. The last of a dynasty. His once-lean frame was scrawny. His once-golden and tousled hair was now dark with grease, shaggy and stuck to his sweated forehead as his one good eye was half-closed.

He pushed himself up and began walking through the halls of the manor. It was all that was left of that time; when Avery had a family, a name and two good eyes. He staggered around, his thin layer of stubble sticky from wine as he careened about, seeing the room that used to belong to Genevieve. He remembered lying on her bed, talking to her about getting out of Scarlett Meadows…

Christ, she should've listened. They all should've. Now he was an orphan. More than that – there wasn't a word for someone who lost their entire family. Cousins and uncles and aunts.

Avery moved down the stairs, finding his bottle empty and sticking his finger in the neck, carrying it as he arrived into the large parlour. He remembered the first time he'd arrived in Caliga Hall – how amazing it had been. The Davenports restored to their former glory. Three years later, they were left in the dirt – the family was as forgotten as the manor.

But Avery still existed.

The door creaked open, flooding the room with the evening sun as a man entered. A handsome man, tall and dark-haired. He removed his derby hat, revealing that he was green-eyed and bearded, and as he came closer, Avery noticed that his left eye was obscured – hidden behind a red leather eyepatch. The rest of his clothes were fine – an expensive-looking suit with a red-and-black vest, fine brogue boots and a gold timepiece tucked away.

"Avery Davenport," the man said.

Avery frowned. "I know you?"  
"We met once," he said, resting a hand on his Mauser pistol. "At Shady Belle. You were with your father."

Avery nodded, pointing a finger. "You're Gareth Maxwell."

Gareth glanced around the room. "This place has really gone to hell…"

"What do you want?"

"The same as you," Gareth said, turning back to Avery. "I wanna kill them who took my eye. Same ones who took yours."

Avery raised an eyebrow. "Why the hell would I wanna do that?"

"Because you ain't no dog. Y'all still got some self-respect."

Avery huffed. "Even if that weren't bunk… there's a gang of 'em. And you ain't got one of your own."

Gareth shook his head. "We don't need one." He pulled a cigarette carton out of his fine jacket and began to smoke. "Get dressed, and bring your gun. I'm introducing you to an associate."

"What associate?"

Gareth replaced his hat back upon his head and removed the cigarette from his mouth. "You've still got some friends, Davenport."

**Yup, that's the chapter! The final chapter of this instalment will be up tomorrow. Stuff is starting to pick up and I had a lot of fun writing this one! So, remember, I'm still accepting members of Guido's (Mob? Syndicate? Business?) and Pinkertons. **

**See ya for the final chapter tomorrow! Don't forget to review – I appreciate **_Lawrence Cartwright_**, **_Jayfeathers Friend_** and **_So hard to choose usernames_** for continued support on ****every**** chapter – means a lot, you guys.**

**R.**


	13. The Fisherman

**So, the final chapter! It's about what you might expect but I****_ think_**** I succeeded at showing a different side of it all. Y'know, similar situations, different characters, new viewpoints and the like.**

**I don't know when I'll put out the next instalment – I planned on doing the next Star Wars instalment and I don't want to fall behind on that because I've already fallen behind on a bunch of other stories (it happens). But the Star Wars stories are meant to be around this length, and I feel like I'll be able to push myself to finish that fairly quickly so… let's say end of April is when I'll put out the next part of the West series.**

**Yeah, that's doable.**

**A massive thank-you to everyone. **_Motordog, So hard to choose usernames, Terrific Acorn, Lawrence Cartwright_, **you guys are fantastic readers and reviewers and I'm so happy to have you along for the ride.**

**Those of you that are fairly new, it's great to have you aboard. 2 weeks is enough time to catch up (I hope) on the previous 3 instalments and this one. It's not necessary but I think we can all agree that you get so much more out of the story when you catch small references (my personal favourite is when they met a man dressed in purple and Aiden says to Luca 'Look, Luca, he stole your clothes.')**

**Anyway, on with the final chapter!**

_24__th__ September, 1905_

_Bayou Nwa, LE_

A gunshot cracked through the clicking of the bayou as Rune Brody stood outside the wooden shacks, shouting loudly.

"Get the hell out here, Harper!"

Behind Rune, in a line, was the gang, absent Charlotte, Abuela, Near and Enzo. A door opened and Elias walked out, a semi-automatic shotgun in one hand as he exited his shack with Tahoma Grudge (armed with a pump-action shotgun) and Ambrosia, who clenched her hands around her bolt-action rifle, eyes on Aiden.

"What's the meaning of this, comrade?"

"This?" Rune holstered his revolver. "What did you tell the Pinkertons, _comrade_?"

"The Pinkertons?" Elias frowned. "I told them nothing. Told them I'd never betray my fellow man…"  
"So they just… _happened_ upon my friends, here?" Rune gestured to Aiden and Jay.

"I don't know anything about that."

"Of course you don't…" Rune growled.

Elias took as step forwards. "I give you forty percent of my business, and you stand there making accusations?"

"Well…" Anna stepped forwards, "I suppose you'd keep that forty percent if we all died, wouldn't ya?"

Elias tapped a finger against the barrel of his shotgun. "I didn't tell them nothing. I've got a witness to back me up-"

"I don't wish to hear your false witness," Rune hissed.

"That's the problem, Brody…" Elias pointed a finger. "You don't want to _hear_."

"Shut up."

"You accuse me, I try to explain why I'm innocent, and you tell me to shut up?"

Rune took a step forwards, his jaw clenched as his grey-blue eyes examined them all. "Okay…" Rune said slowly. "Let's talk then."

Elias nodded. "Have your men wait outside."

Rune disappeared into one of the shacks with Elias, leaving the two factions outside, eying each other carefully. Aiden fixed his eyes on Ambrosia, his hand tightening around the double-barrelled shotgun.

"I don't like this…" Aiden murmured to Luca.

"Nor do I," Luca replied.

"What do you think they're talking about?" Jay asked.

"Shut up, Jay," Aiden muttered, "I don't wanna talk to you."

"Sulkin', sour-face?" Alice asked.

"You can shut it too."

"Ooh, maybe you need a night with your horse…" Alice rolled her eyes.

There were two gunshots from inside the shack. Tahoma and Ambrosia turned to look at the door and seconds later, Ambrosia's jaw cracked in two from Anna's bolt-action. Tahoma turned to run and an arrow soared forth from Night's Hawk's bow, arcing through the sky and piercing his neck.

The door opened and the young moonshiner, Raven, was thrown out into the mud. "Sir, I'm-" the boy began, but Rune put his revolver to the boy's head and blew a hole into his scalp.

"Take the shine," Rune ordered the gang, "take the money and burn the stills! Luca, Sam, go give the gators an early breakfast…"

The gang set about carrying out Rune's orders and Aiden pulled the leather strap of his shotgun across his chest as he walked over to watch the woman, Ambrosia, crawl away. Rune reloaded his revolver and glanced over to Aiden. "You want that one?" Aiden opened his mouth to respond and heard a gunshot as Elijah fired a bullet into her head. Rune wiped Elias' blood from his cheek and grinned at Elijah. "Quite the killer, aren't you, Father?"

"When it's mercy," Elijah replied tersely.

Rune scowled and watched as the gang moved around. "Working hard, or hardly working, son?" Rune asked Aiden.

"What was that about?" Aiden frowned, watching Elias' corpse be carried out of the shack by Sam.

"A bastard ingrate liar, same Davenport and Herridge," Rune replied simply.

"And you murdered him?"

"No, no, I _killed_ him – there's a fine difference, son."

"If you say so…"

"I do!" Rune said, offended. "What, you think I planned this?"

"Why not? You seemed to plan everything else…"

"You seriously can't see that he sold us out?"

"No."

"Well, he did." Rune and Aiden entered the shack, picking up clay jugs of shine and carrying them out towards a wagon.

"Why did you kill him?"

"You saw him holding that shotgun?"

"He went for it?"

"I never kill a man without reason, son, you know that."

"Well, sure… I guess…"

Rune scoffed. "Who else would?"

"I mean… why're you so determined to believe someone set us up?" The set the jugs on the wooden bed of the wagon.

"So the Pinkertons just bumped into you and Jay?"

"We've been killing lawmen and robbing banks for seven years, Rune. Phillipa Herridge was still alive last time I checked, and we killed her daddy – maybe them Pinkertons have been on us all this time."

"And maybe Elias told them where to find you," Rune replied. "Anna had a point – with us dead, he keeps forty percent of his shine money."

Aiden scoffed. "Maybe…"

"He's dead now, son. He ain't a threat to the gang no more." They began to walk back to the shack to get more jugs of shine, pausing as Lana and Ellie emerged, carrying iron lockboxes. "See, son, I told you that I would protect us."

"Meaning?" Aiden frowned.

"Meaning I did that for _us_. To _protect_ us," Rune explained as he entered the shack, with Aiden dawdling behind him. He turned around to see Aiden standing there, frowning. "What?"

"I thought you said you killed him 'cos he went for his gun?"

Rune sighed and set down the jug. "I never said that…"

"I ain't gonna argue goddamn specifics with ya, Rune."

"He was a threat, Aiden," Rune said sharply. "I promised all of you that I would protect us, and that's what I'm doing. That's what I've _always_ done." Aiden kept his hazel eyes locked on Rune, examining him intently. "What?"

"Folk keep dyin', Rune."

Rune set down the jug and took a step towards Aiden. "Killing ain't some dishonourable thing," he growled. "What Herridge did to your land, that was dishonourable. What the Brotherhood did to Ava and Matty, _that_ was dishonourable!"

Aiden nodded, walking past Rune and picking up a jug of moonshine. "I hope you're right about this…" He turned and lugged it back out to the wagon.

* * *

Agent Buck Bayfield crouched down, peering through his binoculars to see the Rune Brody gang carrying clay jugs and putting them down in a carriage, along with several strongboxes.

"It's the whole bloody gang…" Bayfield muttered.

"Then let's take them!" Finch hissed.

"No…" Bayfield replied. "I count ten, at least, and the six of us?" Buck scoffed. "We've not the firepower to take them down…"  
"Convenient," Finch replied.

Bayfield straightened up and walked across the muddied road to Agent Edgar Ross, who lit a cigar and puffed on it, watching the gang through his binoculars. "Sir, I'm afraid that… Elias Harper has been killed-"

"So I see, agent." Ross lowered his binoculars.

"I do not think it would be wise to move right now. It's regrettable, but we haven't the men…"  
"We're all Pinkertons here, agent." Ross said "You can speak plainly?"

"Sir?" Bayfield frowned.

"It's criminals killing criminals. Hardly making our job more difficult."

Bayfield licked his lips. "They're still people, sir."

"I'd say they renounced that right when they robbed and murdered, or… would you rather risk the lives of you and your men for those common scum that would kill you?" Ross said simply, turning to walk back to his horse.

"That doesn't make this right," Bayfield stated.

Agent Ross turned around, a surprised smile on his lips as he chewed on his cigar. "If I were concerned with right and wrong, I'd have joined the police," he said, digging a thumb inside his vest pocket. "Keep to the line, Agent. This ploy of yours was rather impressive…" Ross mounted his horse and pulled on a pair of leather gloves. "Using a small fish to lure out a bigger one… Quite the fisherman, aren't you?"

"There was no plan, sir," Bayfield said, "I don't believe in using live bait."

"But you do believe in throwing back the smaller fish?" Ross raised an eyebrow. "Yes, Agent Finch and I had a rather interesting chat today."

Bayfield glanced over his shoulder at Martin Finch and narrowed his eyes. "'Interesting', sir?"

"Indeed. Shall I let you in on a little secret?" Edgar Ross leant down from his horse. "There _are_ no small fish." He straightened up and turned his horse away. "I give you leave to command your unit, Agent Bayfield. I've business across state."

"Sir?"

"A trail to Mount Hagen," Ross said. "When I return, I expect to hear that _all_ the gang are being hunted. Not just the ringleaders…"

Bayfield clenched his jaw. "Yes, sir."

* * *

Avery sat in the office, scratching at where his stubble used to be. Christ, he felt horrible in the suit – he hadn't buttoned up his shirts for years. And there he was, sat in a fine office with a cup of coffee, listening to a clock tick as sunlight bled through the lace curtains.

The door clicked open and a man entered. Tall and gruff, with a bushy greying beard and a plump belly and a large, gruesome scar carved across his face and behind a black leather eyepatch, similar to Gareth's.

"So you are alive…" He said in a grizzle English accent.

"Mr. Cooper…" Avery marvelled at the old man. "I'd have thought you'd drank yourself to death…"

"Not while I'm of use…" Thomas Cooper sat down. Avery went to pick up his cup of tea, knocking it slightly. He cursed to himself and Cooper let out a single chuckle. "Still getting used to it?" He asked, tapping his eyepatch. "How would you like revenge on them who did it?"

"Brody gang?" Avery asked, glancing to Gareth. "Where are they?"

"We don't know… but we could give you and Gareth some resources to find out."

"Why would 'we' care?" Avery asked.

Thomas stroked his beard as he leaned back in his chair. "My employer considers them to have wronged him personally."

"Personally?"

"I am employed by Signor Martelli. You know him?"

Gareth nodded. "He was my uncle's brother-in-law…"

"Making you and him family," Thomas nodded. "Signor Martelli prizes family above all else."

Avery didn't believe him for some reason. "So… what, he wants me to take revenge because… of loyalty?"

"Rune Brody and his gang killed Mrs. Davenport who, yes, was a Davenport, but she was a Martelli first." Thomas took a cigarette from a steel case and lit it, exhaling a cloud of smoke.

"Avery Davenport, are you familiar with the term 'vendetta'?"

**And that's where I'll leave it. I know, it's cruel, but I feel like that's best.** **I know, Thomas Cooper is still alive – why wouldn't he be? The old guy probably will never die. Just kidding – everyone's going to die because (as some of you know) I'm a bloodthirsty writer.**

**Now, as I said before, the next instalment will hopefully be up in 2-3 weeks, which gives y'all time to reflect on what you've read. We're going to be in the 5****th**** phase, that's ****_crazy_****. I seriously can't be more proud of this story, it's my little baby.**

**Please review and so on – ALSO, I'd love to hear your theories on what's going to happen. I can tell you some things, such as it's going to include Saint Denis (as confirmed last chapter), and there's going to be at least one ****_major _****setpiece akin to the Tragedy at Shady Belle and the Riverboat Massacre. **

**Also, if you can say what you think about the Pinkerton POV, that'd mean a lot – most of you seem to have liked it, so I'm considering making it a more prominent storyline, like I have in this phase.**

**When I start the sequel, I will post an alert/update in this story letting you all know, but I will also write a lil' reflection on this chapter, so… keep an eye out for that.**

**Okay, I'll stop talking because you guys have stuff to get on with. Remember to stay inside, wash your hands regularly, eat well and stay safe. I wish you all the best and will see you soon!**

**R. **


	14. Part 5: End of the West

So, guys, here's Part 5: _End of the West_.

It's crazy how far we've come from that little bunch of misfits just trying to get out of West Elizabeth... Imagine if they'd just gone North instead. Would've been so much more peaceful... But, y'know, who'd read about that?

s/13606343/1/End-of-the-West


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